Victims of Immolation
by Koi Carp
Summary: Years of working with Christophe and Gregory has turned Kyle into a heartless killer. But as two old friends merge back into his life, Kyle learns that he is not completely dead inside. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N- Hello everyone (anyone)! Thank you for picking up this story. I was going to post this story once the whole thing was done, but then I realised that I might never post it if that happens (out of embarrassment), so I decided to do it now. **

**The romance in this story is complicated so I won't say everything. There will be some flashback-like chapters to fill in some information, so feel free to ask any questions.  
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**I will warn you of the mild(?) violence and gay sex, and from chapter one.  
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**Hope you enjoy—  
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_Chapter One: A Broken Clockwork_

ברוך אתה ה' א לוהינו מלך העולם, דיין האמת.

.

A cold winter night. His breath was shaky, and white, like agitated ghosts dancing around him, mocking of his abysmal fear. Ice was attacking his skin, and even deeper, causing his heart to bleed.

Blood was drying on his hands and marks were forming around his thin, white neck. His knees had collapsed to the ground, beside the brick wall, which he was pinned against only a minute ago. And he stared, with eyes wide and still, as his lips quivered out shaking breaths as if he was looking at death straight in the eye. But no, he was looking at something much more terrifying.

The knife fell to the ground with a deep dark clutter, leaving a large gaping hole in the man's neck that gashed out blood like a fountain. But the hands continued to squeeze, ripping the wound apart mercilessly, and even cracking the bones inside. The flesh tore, creating a red crescent moon on the man's throat as the hands continued to dig in, no longer sure if the aim was to tear the head apart from the neck or to close the airways.

Such a horrifying picture, of nothing but darkness and goring red being splattered before him. And then there was a crack in the clouds, finally showing the moon for the first time that night.

Light slowly cast upon the brick ground of the alleyway, inch by inch, until it lit the monster above. And it was just at that second that the large, broken body fell to the ground, splattering the pool of blood underneath, flickering the liquid onto his cheeks, neck and hands.

The last man standing looked down on him, a small light lighting his face as smoke flowed through the icy air. His hazel-green eyes sparked as he turned, the glint beautiful, yet horrifying, brutally so. There was fresh blood splattered across the young man's face, and even more on his hand as he took the cigarette out from in between his lips.

The smaller boy's heart thumped, like it was rattling in his ribs, as if shaking in cold fear, as he stared at the man above him, looking down on him with glinting eyes mixed with coldness and care.

'Tu vas bien?'

One last shaking breath escaped his mouth, that one question like a dagger that split his heart, tore through the heavy curtain to show the dark reality.

Are you okay?

.

His eyes opened in between what seemed to be a scream and a gasp, but was merely a silent breath.

The sun that leaked in through the gaps of the curtain cast a long bright line on the white tangled sheets of the bed, and onto the figure lying beside him. The line of light made the olive-skin of his back glow, showing every tone of hard muscle, every scar and every bone, creating a creature in between a beautiful beast and a human.

Without a word, he slipped out of the sheets and away from the sleeping beast, letting his feet tap against the floor quietly as he clothed his naked skin and exited the small room.

'Oh, good morning Kyle.'

Kyle's emerald eyes slit at the posh English accent as he entered the bright room, trying to make out the figure sitting by the desk, glowing in the morning light.

'Hi Greg,' Kyle mumbled as he crashed into the couch, letting his skinny limbs hang off the edge. He could tell that Gregory twitched in annoyance at the calling of the shortened name, but chose to ignore it. He was too tired, and just generally didn't care if he had offended him. It was too bright to relax on the couch, but his vibrant red curls were good enough to work as a dark curtain to cast the bright light of the office out.

'Is Chris still sleeping?' Gregory asked, moving his eyes through a few files as he did. There was a perfect computer sitting on the desk, much more convenient for storage, but Gregory had long since chosen to not keep any important things on the computer. Living and growing up with a person like Kyle had made him so.

'Let him rest. He had a rough night…' Kyle grumbled sleepily.

'What, from the mission or from fucking you?' Gregory asked sarcastically. The question won a glare from the redhead on the couch, who was too tired to make any remark and simply sank back into the darkness behind his curls instead.

Gregory curled his perfect lips and thinned his silver-blue eyes as he smirked lightly at the redhead's annoyance, but quickly returned back to the files.

'He can rest,' the blond said authoritatively, 'It's _you_ who has some work to do.'

'If it's the information on Redmond co. then I finished it last night. Why do you think I'm so tired? …Oh, shut up—' Kyle spat before Gregory could make another remark. 'The info's on the chip I left on the desk. I'm surprised you haven't got it yet—'

'No, I have the chip, thank you Kyle. In fact, I was thinking that you might as well just _stay_ in bed.'

'Why? You just said that I had work—'

'You have some work _tonight_.'

A small, subtle shudder ran through Kyle's shoulders and instantly, the drowsiness shot away from his brain. Letting a sense of coldness sink into his chest, he got up from the couch and onto his feet, and walked towards Gregory's desk. Without a word, the blond handed him a thin file.

Name: Ronald Waterhouse. Age: fifty-three. Chief accountant of the Beaton compony. Married twenty-eight years, broke wife's jaw once when drunk; has two sons, both moved out. Occasionally indulges himself in sexual pleasures with the money he secretly scams off the compony.

'Is this it?' Kyle asked, flicking the thin file with his hand.

'Of course not.' Gregory smirked, finally looking away from his papers to meet Kyle's vibrant eyes. 'He goes down to Colfax Point every Friday night to look for his pleasure.'

'So?'

An emotionless grin swept upon Gregory's lips.

'Apparently he prefers the compony of pretty boys than ladies, on his Friday nights.' Kyle's eyes widened, if only slightly. Gregory leaned his chin into his entangled fingers, looking up, intently into Kyle's emeralds. 'Like yourself.'

Now Kyle's eyes had completely darkened, from disgust, slight disappointment, and cold emptiness, even though none of it was new.

Without making a respectful reply, Kyle dropped the thin file lifelessly onto Gregory's desk, and turned around to stomp his feet towards his bedroom door.

'I'm going to sleep some more,' he called, shutting the door behind him with an angry slam.

'Sweet dreams—' Gregory murmured quietly.

The second the door shut behind him his anger and frustration towards the blond dropped along with the tension in his shoulders. He let a long breath out his nose and swept through the small, room to drop himself into the bed. He groaned slightly as he felt himself sink into the soft mattress.

'What is wrong?' A rough, yet gentle voice murmured tiredly beside him. Kyle opened his eyes slightly, to meet hazel-green ones, and then let his eyelids close again sleepily.

'Morning 'Tophe.' Kyle mumbled into his pillow.

'What did Gregory say to you?' A slight tinge of suspicion hinted Christophe's voice, but Kyle ignored it.

'I have some work to do tonight.'

'Oh?' Christophe reached out to brush his long, olive fingers against Kyle's pale cheek. Kyle didn't say anymore. He simply let the brunet caress his skin as he fell into another sleep.

.

The small, silver case clicked opened and he drew his thin finger against the small white pills inside. One, two… twelve. He clicked it shut and slid it into his jeans' pocket. Then he took his hunting knife, small as a pocketknife, and slid the leather sheath off to reveal a clean, steel surface that glimmered under the bedside lamp. His finger flicked against the sharp blade, listening to the clean _flick, flick_, and the subtle ring that came with it. Satisfyingly, he slid the sheath back on and wrapped the small knife around his ankle. The small revolver was tucked under his pillow, deliberately left there, predicted to be not needed for the night. He was ready.

The old, dirty flat was silent, and cold. There was no one there except for him. Gregory out to God knows where, and Christophe out for another job. And now Kyle was about to leave, him for his own bit of night time work. His emerald eyes were damp and dark as he turned the lights off of the flat, drowning their home and workplace in complete black before he left.

It wasn't a cold night. Kyle's coat was old and baggy, once belonged to Christophe, but the thin material was no problem as he walked through the dark, quiet streets. In fact, there were no problems at all in his blank mind, except for the maybe one: that his mind was a little too blank, washed out, nothing but a black hole.

It wasn't a long walk to Colfax Point, maybe even too short for Kyle's liking, for now that he had reached there he had to wait until his special customer arrived, and there was no guarantee that he would. As he walked through the streets Kyle wriggled his nose in disgust. The place was like a ghost town, only coming to life at night to bring the prostitutes, addicts and secret buyers onto the streets. The air was polluted with the smell of sex, drugs, money, corruption, and even a noticeable hint of it— death.

An hour— Kyle thought, still wriggling his nose. If he doesn't appear in an hour, I'll go home. After making that small promise to himself he even counted on it, to use it as an excuse to snuggle out of this job. But he knew, that wouldn't do— that wouldn't do at all.

But either way, it was only twenty minutes of ignoring unwanted offering until a dimly shining black car pulled over beside him. The window rolled down with a practiced smoothness, and revealed a mouth grinning slightly grimly, wrinkles digging deep as he did.

'How much?'

Kyle took a quick, intent glance of the man, before opening his mouth nonchalantly.

'Hand twenty. Oral thirty. Anal forty.'

But Kyle's emotionless words were silenced with a small wave of bank notes.

'How about I pay by the hour?'

An invisible coldness swept through Kyle's eyes as he continued to look at the easy grin of the man's face, but without another word, he walked around and slid into the passenger seat, drawing a smirk out of the middle-age's brick-like nose. The car silently turned to life, and swept through the dirty air of Colfax Point like a fish through a stream.

Kyle kept his fluffy hood up as he walked beside the man through the dirty reception of the sex-reeking hotel. But he didn't think it was highly necessary; the receptionist was obviously intoxicated and barely looked up to see the customer's face. Yet Kyle's vibrant scarlet hair was memorable, so it was always good to hide it.

It wasn't the first time Kyle was in a position to sell his body. Sex was the easiest way to put people off guard, especially if they were affluent and influential. People would be alone, and they would be secret about it, especially if they were going somewhere like Colfax Point. Besides, it was easier to dispose evidence when he was naked, unless they made him ejaculate (which Kyle avoided by finishing the job first). And of course, at Colfax Point there were never any witnesses.

'Wait,' the man called, making Kyle twitch to a stop. 'Slower.'

Silently, frustration built inside the redhead. The sooner he could strip himself naked, the sooner this could be over and done with. Why would anyone want to watch a "prostitute's" strip show anyway? Weren't they there for quick sex? Kyle's coat fell easily to the ground, and he began fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, slowly. He could hear the man's deepening breath, and he could even feel the man's penis twitch from a few feet away.

'You have such beautiful skin,' the man breathed as he began stroking the crotch of his pants, making Kyle pause for a second. 'Are you clean?'

'Probably not.' Kyle muttered. There was no way he would say he was, only to give the man a reason not to put a condom on.

'Are you new in the industry? You seem... a little too neat.'

Kyle ignored the comments and subtly quickened the unbuttoning of his shirt.

'Like your hair and teeth… ah—' the man raised his finger, making Kyle's fingers stop on the zip of his jeans. 'Come down onto your knees. Give me some head first before we go down there.'

Kyle's eyes slightly thinned. So there was no way to go through this without any action, huh? But he obeyed, reluctantly, kneeling on the dirty hotel floor and undoing the man's pants. With secret irritation, towards the man and towards Gregory for giving him such a job, Kyle grasped the man's already erected cock and took it into his mouth. The man groaned and dug his fingers aggressively into Kyle's scarlet curls, eyes closing as he felt the redhead's teeth glaze his shaft and tongue swirl around his leaking head.

The faster the better. The faster the better. Kyle worked as he chanted in his head, sucking and pumping almost aggressively, because the faster he could end, the better. He could feel the bold man was on edge, and although the idea of him coming in Kyle's mouth was revolting, he didn't want it to continue a second longer.

'Stop!' Kyle froze, looking up to the man with his cock still in his mouth. 'That is… that's good.' The man chuckled breathless, letting his penis slide out of Kyle's mouth.

'Then what?' Kyle asked with confusion, watching the man's satisfactory grin.

'There's time for that later. Right now, I'd rather have a taste of your ass.'

Finally, Kyle thought. If he could get his jeans off without suspicion, he could reach his knife and do the man off without getting a single splash of blood on his clothes. Almost eagerly, Kyle undid his jeans and slid them down, but before he could completely throw his jeans off he was pushed into the floor, landing on all fours with his jeans only to his knees.

The man chuckled, and a sudden shudder rushed through Kyle as he felt a warm tongue slide across his arse and lower hip. 'Nice…' he moaned from behind happily.

Kyle almost yelped as he felt a testing finger push into him, and then pull out just as quickly.

'Pretty tight too.'

Goddamn it! Kyle screamed in his head, left eye slightly teary. If only he could get his fucking jeans off— Kyle reached back, trying to slide the fabric off his ankles, but was stopped as he was pushed further into the ground.

'Please!' Kyle called as the man slid his cock against Kyle's hole. 'Can I get my jeans off!'

The man paused behind him, listening to the redhead's cries.

'Why?'

'Because it's—' Kyle thought of a reasonable excuse, 'because it's burning my skin.'

'Okay,' the man answered easily, tugging at the jeans around his knees, letting Kyle's roll onto his back to kick the fabric off. The fabric flung to the other side of the room, and now Kyle was completely stripped naked on the floor before the erected man, except for one small thing.

'What's this?' The man asked, reaching down to Kyle's ankle, only to have the foot drawn out of his reach.

'What? _This_?' Kyle asked, sliding his finger along the wooden grip of his small hunting knife tied around his ankle with a leather shaft. His fingers wrapped around the grip and pulled the clean steel blade out of its sleep to glimmer under the dim hotel light. Kyle slid his emerald eyes intently across his reflection in the blade, cold, lifeless, yet silently burning eyes looking back at him. '_This_ is for killing you.'

Without a second to let the man comprehend, without letting him breathe his last single breath, and without letting the man taste his silky white skin one last time, Kyle shot his left hand around the man's jaw, pushing it up to reveal the tender skin of his neck, and dug the dagger mercilessly into the exposed throat.

The clean red line opened and shaped into a red crescent moon. Blood sprayed onto Kyle's emotionless face, and the rest streamed down the man's neck and down his half-done shirt. The aggressive gaggling sound entered Kyle's ears and he watched as the man crashed onto the floor. His body shook and twitched, and the hollow sound of air whispering through his windpipes echoed in Kyle's head.

Kyle watched as the man died before him. His emerald orbs were cold, like real stones, emotionless, thoughtless, lifeless as they stared. He made sure he didn't step in the pool of blood as he made his way to the bathroom to rush the red off his white body. The fresh blood ran down his skin and across the dirty tiles of the shower as if scattering away in fear.

Body clean and refreshed, Kyle pondered out the bathroom and across the unlucky room, feet avoiding the pool of blood as he took his clothes off the floor and wrapped them around his skin. And lastly, knife preciously cleaned and renewed, slid back into the sheath around his ankle.

'Good night, Ronald Waterhouse,' Kyle whispered, before slipping out of the blood-reeking room.

The receptionist didn't look up as Kyle slid past and exited the hotel with his hood up past his eyes again. He was glad the man chose a cheap hotel in Colfax Pont. It was always easier to have no security cameras or willing witnesses around. He may have traumatised the hotel staff though, so he felt sorry for them when they were to find the dead body.

The working voices of the midnight street were nothing but a distant murmur as he walked through the darkness. He didn't ignore the voices that called to him, but more so didn't register them, and made his way back home as if he was forgotten by the rest of the living world.

He was a ghost.

The old, crooked flat was dark and cold again when Kyle got back, but he was grateful for that. His tired feet dribbled underneath him as he pondered up the steps and into the office, passing Gregory's desk and entering his small bedroom and collapsed onto his bed.

No Christophe. He sighed in exhaustion as his body sank into the mattress. Tired, Kyle slowly undid the knife around his ankle, took the pill case out of his jeans and struggled out of his thin coat before digging himself into the sheets.

Silence, finally, but before he could completely dwell himself into it, Kyle began to hear the small rhythmic squeaking of a bed in the distance. The subtle whisper seemed to echo in Kyle's ears and he took his blanket up above his head in desperateness. He was tired.

Sex, and death, and sex and death, it seemed to never end. It seemed to be the only thing that existed in the world. In fact, the world was probably killed by it a very long time ago, only so that darkness, despair, and emptiness could dwell in the living-dead world. And now, the world was nothing but a grave.

To drown the sound of sex out of his tired ears, a small, whisper of a melody ghosted Kyle's lips and filled the frozen dark room, casting the whole world, and Kyle, to a deep sleep in the midst of the lullaby.

.

As the crack in the curtains cast the morning light on his forehead, Kyle woke up surrounded in warmth, and found Christophe's olive-skinned arms tight around his waist. The man was naked, and his toned arms had slid up Kyle's shirt to feel the thin naked skin underneath, feeling Kyle's raw heat, as he slept. Kyle found it a bit strange though, confusing even, as Christophe breathed each of his calm and relaxed breaths of sleep next to Kyle, as if his presence was all that he needed for safety.

It was a sad thought. The creaking of the bed from midnight whispered in Kyle's ears as he looked into Christophe's face. And he confirmed himself, emotionlessly, that it was sad. He sometimes wondered about Christophe, Gregory, and himself, and the unconquerable cracks that existed in between them. They loved each other, probably, in their own crooked way, for they had been together since middle school. Then why? Where did these cracks come from? Did they suddenly appear? Or did they grow up with them?

Brushing Christophe's spiky chocolate hair gently, Kyle slid out of the brunet's arms and out of bed, stretching slightly before leaving the room.

'I see you did your job last night,' Gregory greeted, hiding behind the newspaper at his desk. '"Fraud accountant found dead last night." Would you like a coffee?'

'Yes please,' Kyle mumbled, falling back into the couch.

'Good. I'll have one too thanks.'

Kyle rolled his eyes and groaned slightly, before getting up and heading out the office and to the kitchen. That arrogant son of a bitch, Kyle thought as he put the kettle on, sweeping through the miniscule kitchen to grab the coffee. But the bastard got good coffee, Kyle hummed, plopping a coffee bean into his mouth.

No sugar, no milk, Kyle thought, making Gregory's, and milk for himself.

'Ta.' Gregory smiled, finally folding the paper away as Kyle slammed the cup onto his desk. He ignored Kyle's frustration and sipped happily. 'So how did it go?' Gregory eyed Kyle with a knowing grin.

'What do you mean "how did it go"? You read it in the papers didn't you?'

'Yes, but the paper always leave out the interesting facts don't they? They only said how they found him, bloody, neck open, on the floor of a hotel in Colfax Point.'

Kyle glared daggers into the blond.

'So what else if there?' He spat distastefully, making Gregory's grin grow.

'Did you kill him as he fucked you? Or did you let him finish first?'

A loud crash echoed around the room as Kyle threw the remote controller of the television, conveniently placed on the couch a second ago, at the blond who dodged it with an easy smile.

'Fuck you! You fucking sadistic fuck!'

'I'm surprised you were able to kill him at all with a throw like that!' Gregory chuckled; ducking again as an empty cup came flying his way.

'I'll fucking kill you next!'

It was clever of them to have chosen a place completely sealed with soundproof walls and glass. If not, they would have been thrown out ages ago. But still, their racket reached the other room and to the man sleeping in Kyle's bed.

'Oh, good morning Chris, did we wake you?'

But Christophe ignored the blond, pondering with sleeping legs to the enraged redhead.

'What's wrong?' Christophe murmured, wrapping his arms around Kyle's shoulders from the back and leaning into the shorter boy.

'Nothing. Except for the fact that Gregory's being a complete asshole!'

'Oh, I'm sorry Kyle. You are just far too entertaining to tease, I apologise.'

'Fuck you!' But Kyle didn't pick up anything to throw this time, not with Christophe's sleepy arms wrapped around him. He simply gave up, and breathed deeply, and angrily, before slipping away from Christophe and dropping himself onto the couch with an exasperated 'Humph!'

Silence filled the room as Gregory went back to drinking his coffee, Christophe gazing sleepily out the window with his morning cigarette, and Kyle typing angrily into his laptop on his couch.

'Kyle, don't forget the Sowdon files.' Gregory reminded, not moving his eyes from the screen of his desktop computer a while later.

'I know! I'm doing it!' Kyle called irritably, typing away.

'How much longer?'

'Seventeen seconds.' Kyle stated, attaching a USB into his laptop. And indeed, seventeen seconds later the USB was thrown to Gregory, who caught it with widened eyes.

This is why I don't keep anything on my computer… Gregory thought to himself, a smile of bravado on his lips as he watched the redhead continue to tap through his keyboard nonchalantly.

Trying to undo the tension in his smiling lips, Gregory breathed, and looked back to the screen of his computer. He stared at the reply box of his email, and let his fingers type through the keyboard.

"_I'll put my best man to it."_

Gregory pressed the send button, and the message disappeared. To be honest, he didn't know why he just sent that message. Even with Kyle's protection on the computer, he always rather met people face to face when he was to accept a job. Furthermore, Kyle wasn't his best man; he was his only man, except for Christophe who took on completely different jobs now. But in that email, the word "best" came out so naturally, and it seemed to fit the scrawny boy on the couch so perfectly.

It was difficult to believe that such talent lived in that small, dirty flat in the edge of town. But there he was, no, there they were, three of them. Such silent, invisible, dangerous talent all cramped up in that one small office, forgotten by the world, and forgetting the world.

.

Silver blue eyes glanced up, scanning through his long blond eyelashes to stare at the scrawny boy lying on his couch, thin arms securing a book above his face.

'Kyle, you have another job.' The blond said authoritatively, his usual cut-and-paste smile not seen presently on his lips.

'What? Dude, I just worked my ass off! For days! Can't you give me a fucking rest for a change?'

'You have a job.'

Gregory's cold words instantly shut Kyle up. The redhead sighed, closing the book without bothering to keep the page and pondering down to Gregory's desk.

'What?' He leaned his hand into the wooden surface.

A thin file was quickly pressed into Kyle's nose, and his heart silenced as he took the file into his hands. Another killing: Kyle could smell it. It was only a week since the previous one and Kyle was already ordered for the next.

In reality, it had been in Gregory's desk for that whole week, waiting for the right moment, which Gregory decided in the end that would never come. And so now, it was in Kyle's hands.

The cream cover of the file lifted to reveal the information of the person who didn't know that he was already a dead man.

Emerald eyes met icy-blue orbs.

Kyle's heart instantly stopped the second he saw the photograph clipped on to the paper inside. The handsome face smiled softly in the photograph even though he was oblivious that such a thing was taken. His cheekbones, his nose, his jaw and his smiling mouth, everything was carved into that one perfection, except for the messy blond hair that stook out in random places.

Even with frozen eyes the information of the file leaked into Kyle's mind.

Age: twenty-one. Expelled from high school under suspicion of numerous sexual encounters with teachers. Left home at the age of sixteen and has made no contact with family since. Presently lives with his "best friend" as he works at a local restaurant.

'Will you do it? I understand if you don't want to, I'll give it to Chris—'

'No—' Kyle's voice sliced through Gregory's words, quickly and cold, like a sharp blade made of ice. 'No… I'll do it.'

Gregory stared searchingly at Kyle still looking at the file, finding what he always saw when he gave Kyle a "job": nothing. Only a plain, silent ice that frosted over his almost demonically beautiful face.

'Good,' Gregory stated, feeling a subtle chill prick the hairs on the back of his neck. Then he quickly turning back to his computer to leave the redhead be.

Mind cut off from the rest of the world, silence echoing in his ear, Kyle's emotionless eyes slowly drifted to the first line of the file. He stared intently at those two words, to confirm what he already knew. To confirm the name of the person Kyle will soon kill with his own two hands.

The name of Kenneth McCormick.

.

"Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the universe, the True Judge."


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two: Forgotten Wheel_

Their first encounter was when they were barely a few months old. Of course Kyle had no memory of it, but even if he did, he wouldn't call a mere brush of the feet, as they lied in the arms of their mothers walking past in the street, an "encounter". Their proper meeting was a few years later in preschool, yet still Kyle's memory was fuzzy for that. In fact, Kyle didn't remember at all how they started their friendship that lasted until high school. Until Kyle's life was preparing to crumble.

But that was even years ago. Even the memories that he still had of his childhood, the time he spent in his mountain hometown pushed deep into the unused part of his brain, were insignificant to him now. The laughter and tears that they had once shared as children held no meaning to him now.

So their friendship lasted for ten years, from preschool to high school. They were definitely not best friends, but for ten years, they were always together. It was a strange thought, since for the past seven years that they were _not_ together his name didn't even bother to cross Kyle's mind. Yet there it was, for the first time in seven years, _in_ Kyle's mind. In Kyle's mind as he looked at the information in the thin file in his hand, the information of Kenneth McCormick, the man who will soon be dead.

.

It was a pleasant atmosphere, for a bar at least. The counter was nicely separated from the groups of drunks drinking cheep beer and playing pool, leaving it quiet enough for the counter so that you could hear the bartender's tender cleaning of the glasses and mixing of the drinks.

A small ringing echoed through the bar, subtly announcing the arrival of a new customer. He immediately leaned his elbow into the wood of the counter as he called out to the bartender.

'Two beers.'

A habitual smile rested on his lips, and he lightly scanned his icy-blue eyes through the bar as he waited for his two drinks. But his aimless eyes quickly stopped on the figure sitting alone on the stool a few feet away.

A kid? No, the drink in his hand was clearly alcoholic. A woman? It was hard to tell. Her coat was clearly a man's, way too big for her frail body (she was tall though, for a woman at least), the large hood rested on her head to let the fluff cover her whole face. Her boyfriend's? It didn't matter. With his instinctual smile slightly growing on the man's lips he leaned over and took the empty stool next to the lonely drinker.

'What are you drinking there?' He asked casually, but with a flirtatious scent subtle in his voice. He leaned in a little further, wanting a glimpse of the face hiding behind the heavy hood. But just as he thought he could see clear-white skin, the figure flung her head around, slicing the air, to look straight into his flirtatious face.

Emerald eyes met icy-blue orbs.

Startled, the man's flirtatious smile slowly dropped and his eyes began to widen. An uncontrollable sensation, something that he had never experienced before in his life, rushed through his mind and body. The face that he stared into made him forgot the mortal world spinning around him.

Blood-red hair fell into natural curls under the hood, the vibrant colour almost daunting beside the perfect white, icy skin of the neck and face. Long eyelashes, red, but full, almost like the legs of a spider, curled to show the deep rich eyes shining in every shade of green imaginable. His features weren't all perfect, but he held beauty, such… such beauty. He had never seen such a thing before. Beauty, that was almost angelic.

And then, as he continued to stare, the person's small, pointy lips parted softly to draw out a voice…

'Gin and tonic,' Kyle answered flatly. The blond blinked once, and continued to stare at the redhead dumbly, ruining his own handsome features. Kyle tensed his lips in slight irritation and said again, 'You know? Gin and tonic? The drink that has "saved more Englishmen's lives, and minds, than all the doctors in the Empire"?' But the blond still only blinked, making Kyle ogle him disbelievingly. 'Churchill?'

'Who is he, your friend?' The words that finally came out of the blond's mouth made Kyle freeze, then suddenly burst out into a cackle. The blond watched him, amusement slowly colouring his face as he listened to Kyle's ringing laughter.

God. He was more of an idiot than he last remembered— Kyle chuckled to himself, taking another sip of his drink. The blond sipped his own beer, eyes not moving away from the redhead.

'What?' Kyle asked, eyes now annoyed at the burning attention his face was getting.

'Nothing, it's just…' the blond chuckled softly, 'I thought you were a chick for a second. Before you opened your mouth, I mean.'

'Is that why you talked to me?' Kyle smiled, yet with a contrasting bitterness rolling in his stomach. 'You were going to hit on me?'

'Don't be silly, I'm going to hit on you anyway.' The blond watched as Kyle laughed again, then shook his head softly as he drew the gin and tonic up to his lips. He watched intently at those lips as they pressed against the glass.

'What's your name?' Kyle froze at the question, before he could sip his alcohol. 'I'm Kenny by the way.'

'Kenny,' Kyle greeted, as if saying the name for the first time. And then he blurted the first thing that came to his mind: 'I'm Scar.'

'Scar?' Kenny raised his eyebrow.

'Yep. Short for _Scar_let, but way too many people say Scar_lett_.' Kyle dragged on the "lett", instead of "scar". He sometimes amazed himself with the lies that naturally rolled off his tongue.

'Could never imagine _why_,' Kenny chuckled softly, taking another sip of his beer. Kyle took that chance to quickly scan his eyes over the blond. Tall, about five foot eleven. Skinny, but not frail. Thin muscle, but strong enough to throw a good punch or two. Not armed. Posture loose and light, relaxed. Alone—

'Who is that drink for?' Kyle asked, his eyes landing on the extra beer placed next to Kenny.

'Huh? Oh, yeah that's—'

'Hey dude,' a slightly deeper voice interfered Kenny's words, and a long arm was flung around the blond's shoulders, making him sink under the weight.

Kyle stared at the hand dangling from Kenny's shoulder, identifying the long edginess of each finger, and then traced his eyes up the wrist and through the arm, built, but not as trained as Christophe… but then again, who would be? Kyle's eyes continued to scan through the body, up and up, past the neck, the strong jaw, and then…

Their eyes met. Kyle was looking into the deep sapphire blue, thinned under the lowed black eyebrows. But as he stared, the sapphire eyes slowly widened, from slits to circles. His arm slipped off Kenny's shoulder as he unconsciously began to lean in to Kyle and he reached out to press his hand onto the coat-clad shoulder—

'Kyle?' The raven-haired exclaimed, pushing hard into the frail shoulder. _'Kyle?'_ He said again accusingly, louder this time as he continued to lean into the redhead.

_Stan_… A voice gasped in Kyle's ear. His eyes widened in shock, and almost, ungraspable fear. _Stan Marsh_…

A loud laugh echoed through the frozen two, making them come back to reality to stare at the cackling blond.

'Not quite, Stan!' Kenny chuckled, patting the raven on the back. 'This is Scar_lett_. Scarlett, this slightly obtuse friend of mine, is Stan.'

'Scarlett?' Stan gaped, blank in the face as he stared at Kyle.

'It's Scar,' Kyle corrected, extending his hand out in a civil manner. Stan stared at the hand, then back to Kyle's face. Slowly, his round eyes began to thin again and tension returned to his lips. Without a word, and certainly without shaking Kyle's hand, Stan drew back and dropped himself onto the stool beside Kenny, drinking his beer and pretending that the redhead didn't exist.

_Stan Marsh…_ Kyle repeated the name in his head. His open hand unconsciously gripped into a tight fist as he dropped it back to his gin and tonic.

Stan Marsh… So _he_ was the "best friend" Kenny was living with. He came all the way down from our old mountain town to live with Kenny in the city. Or was it the other way around? But just as different scenarios entered Kyle's brain, he suddenly stopped. Because he realised, that he just. Didn't. Care.

Kyle gave Stan a quick glance as he lifted his glass to his lips. The man was glaring at his bottle of beer, occasionally swinging the alcohol down his throat angrily. Kyle watched Stan's Adam's apple rise and sink as the liquid entered him, and then the way Stan tensed his nose frustratingly as he let out an angry breath after.

A man, Kyle thought to himself.

If there were an encounter Kyle remembered it would have been with him, almost twenty years ago. The fact was, he didn't. He only remembered how his mother _explained_ their first encounter.

'I almost shrieked!' She said one day with her brain-numbing voice, 'It was the first day of preschool and you two weren't old enough to even walk on your own feet! There you were, playing alone nicely with the alphabet blocks, my smart little bubbe, and then there goes Stan Marsh on all fours crawling towards you. I thought he was going to play with you nicely, but then a second later you were screaming and crying your head off! He was pulling at your beautiful red curls with his fierce baby-grip! You were crying and crying and oh! Lord knows how you two became inseparable!'

Yes. For the twelve years Kyle spent in his mountain town Kenny wasn't Kyle's best friend, because Stan was. But that was almost ten years ago, when they were still boys. This man, no, these two men sitting next to him now, were not the two boys Kyle once loved. They were two completely different people Kyle didn't know.

And one of them was a man who he would have to kill.

'Sorry about him,' Kenny whispered, indicating Stan. He leaned into the redhead to let their shoulders subtly touch. 'He just has a thing with this _Kyle_… his best friend.'

Kyle raised his eyebrows amusingly, yet inside he was still unmoving. 'I thought _you_ would have been his best friend?'

'Me? Yeah… maybe. But I think I'm more like—' He paused, stopping all his words as he stared into Kyle's curious emerald eyes.

What? Kyle thought as he waited for Kenny's words. You're more like his lover? Was that why Stan was so possessive over you when he saw you supposedly "hitting" on a lonely "chick"?

But instead of finishing his sentence, Kenny took a long swig of his beer, finishing with a loud breath. He ordered another one.

'Do you want another one of those?' Kenny asked Kyle with a testing smile. 'It'll be on me.'

Kyle let a smirk rest on his lips as he leaned his arm into the table to look into the melting eyes in Kenny's heating blue eyes.

'Why not?'

By the time their new drinks came the raven-haired man was already on his third bottle, trying his best to ignore the supposedly romantic atmosphere growing between the other two beside him.

'So, what are you doing here?' Kenny asked, eyeing Kyle through the corner of his eye. 'Drinking alone, I mean. You don't seem the type to enjoy drinking alone in a bar.'

'Yeah?' Kyle grinned amusingly, 'And what type of person do I look like?'

'The type that doesn't enjoy drinking at all…' Kenny murmured staring into his drink, 'Doesn't enjoy it, but does it anyway, just because it's a "normal" thing to do…' And he took another swig.

Kyle's eyes slightly thinned. He stared at the blond with narrowed eyes, trying so hard not to glare. Kyle didn't know why, but the assumption Kenny had for this "Scar", the somewhat accurate assumption he had for the person he supposedly just met, infuriated him like no other.

But oblivious to the fact, Kenny continued to drink his beer, rising the base into the air, sending the burning liquid down his throat. He finished the bottle with another deep, long, and contented breath.

How to stop it… Kyle thought. How to stop that breath… The knife? Or should he just slip a pill into his drink now? Let the poison do the job for him, no, that would be too quick; he needed a new variety. Or he could give him one of his sleeping pills, kill him easily enough while he slept to not leave a trace…

For a short moment Kyle's eyes were burning, and then they opened again blankly, to fall back into a thinness much more relaxed and even seductive this time.

Sex. That was always what it came down to.

'Hey Kenny?' Kyle murmured, eyeing the blond with a hot glint in his eye as he pressed his gin and tonic to his lips temptingly. 'Is it just me, or did it suddenly get a little hot in here?' Kyle wanted to slice his knife through his own skin as he said those words. He seriously didn't know how to flirt.

'You know…' But Kenny played along, leaning in to Kyle again. His eyelids were drooped, his breath heavy, and he didn't even try to hide it as he slipped his hand around Kyle's thin neck and pressed his lips against Kyle's ear, making the redhead's eyes widen. 'I was just thinking the same thing.'

Kyle's eyes narrowed as Kenny's voice seemed to echo in his ear, but his lips curled into a mischievous grin as he slid his hand up the blond's thigh to push himself up onto his feet. A shiver rushed through Kenny's thigh straight to his crotch, and his smile grew satisfyingly as he followed suit and pushed himself off his stool.

Stan didn't call to the two as Kenny and Kyle walked past the drunk, but through the corner of his eye he took a secret glance of Kyle leading Kenny's way as he finished his forth bottle.

The subtle sound of the bell echoed through the bar as Kyle opened the door, but it slammed to a sharp silence as Kenny closed it behind him.

'So, where do you want to go?' The blond asked with a heavy voice. He might as well just have asked, 'Where do you want to fuck? Your place or mine?'

A high school dropout living with his best friend-slash-lover. The occasional one-night standards that he was obviously used to wouldn't make the neighbours suspicious of any new faces Kenny took home. Furthermore, working at a local restaurant wouldn't give him much money, so he wouldn't be able to afford much of a place. A place with much of a security system that is, and oh how easier it was without security.

'Why don't you show me what kind of a place you live in?' The allurement was sinking well into Kyle's voice. But his suggestion was only met with a subtle frown.

'I don't think you'll like my place that much.' Kenny said quietly, but before he could sink too deep, Kyle took his cheeks into his hands and brought their gazes together.

'I couldn't fucking care.'

His breath was so soft, and warm, making Kenny shudder in blissful pleasure from that small whisper. It was strange, yet wonderful at the same time, to have such a beautiful, angelic creature whisper darkly seductive words into his ear, making his penis twitch. But Kenny didn't stop to think that the beautiful redhead in front of him was not such a holy creature at all, but a fallen one ripped of its wings. The unholy creature Kyle knew himself to be.

Their footsteps echoed around the dark alleys of the city, occasionally dying under the cars rushing by. A hollow _tap tap tap_ echoed around, bouncing off the bricks like a small and eerie cry.

I could just do it here… Kyle thought as he looked around the dark passage. There was hardly a shadow close by that resembled human existence and Kenny, not suspecting a thing from his blinding hormones and intoxicated mind, was completely and utterly off guard. Kyle wouldn't have to wait to get to Kenny's house, to seduce the man into clean and easy kill. He could do it here, in the middle of the isolated alleyway, without the need to whore himself in exchange for Kenny's vulnerability.

Gradually slowing his pace, Kyle crouched down onto his knee to slide his fingers along his shoe.

'Did your shoelace come undone?' Kenny asked looking down onto the man kneeling behind him.

'Yeah, just go ahead. I'll catch up.'

Tensing his lips impatiently, Kenny did as he was told. His shoes turned around on the stoned ground and slowly took their steps away from Kyle. The redhead watched intently at the distance growing in between them through his fringe, the seductive glint in his eye freezing into a cold stone.

His fingers slowly swayed from his shoelaces to the hem of his jeans, sliding up his ankle to feel the firm leather clenched around his skin. The index finger continued to flow up along the sheath of his small hunting knife, until it touched the cool surface of the wooden grip.

Kyle carefully rose back up onto his feet, fingers gripped onto the knife pulling the blade out of its sleep as he did so. The steel surface glimmered silently as Kyle pulled his wrist back, arm crossing against his chest, eyes unmercifully tearing through the back of Kenny's unsuspected neck, right at the cervical spine where he could tear through all the crucial nerves and kill him in an instant.

The muscles in Kyle's arm and fingers tensed in concentration, and he took his last breath before throwing the knife to kill…

'Watch out!' A sudden gasp echoed through the alleyway, freezing Kyle's hand beside his chest before knife was set free. His emerald eyes opened wide, a cold rush of panic attacking his body in that one moment, until a violent _CRASH_ tore through his eardrums.

'OH my GOD!' The voice screeched from above, hitting off the brick walls down and down until it was echoing around Kyle.

Bits of clay was scattered along the ground along with handfuls of rich soil spread lifelessly on the stone road. The scattered dirt and broken clay little by little gathered up towards one area, ending up as a pile of soil in the remains of a broken flowerpot. In the centre of that pile of soil, it was only the one flower that survived as its beautiful self remained in tact. It bloomed in the survived dirt, mixed in strands of blond hair, swaying gently in the scent of blood.

A loud scream flashed a light through Kyle's head and the redhead quickly slid the knife up the sleave of his jacket, hiding it as he ran to the body lying on the ground. He gently flicked the dirt off the still head of the blond and turned his unresponsive body around until his icy-blue eyes were staring up at him in his hold. They were lifeless.

Everything was quiet, his breath, his movements, and the screams didn't reach his ears, making the violent sound of his heartbeat tear through his mind. Trying to ignore the sound, Kyle pressed his fingers against the jaw of the still body. Breathing heavily, he then took the heavy wrist out and slid his fingers against the thin skin for equal measure.

His eyes opened wide, but the light didn't shine in his emerald orbs: they were too empty.

'Holy shit! Is he dead?'

The gathering voices shot life back into Kyle's eyes with a flick. Without a second thought, the redhead jumped onto his feet, leaving the bloody blond on the cold ground as he tore his body through the dark alleyway before an eye could catch him.

His breath was heavy. His heart was racing.

He just couldn't believe it.

Kyle could still feel the blond's skin on his fingers, the tender softness of it. He could still see the lifeless blue eyes looking up at him from behind the dirty blond hair. He could hear the ugly silence leaking out of Kenny's nose and slightly parted lips.

No pulse. No breath.

Kenny was dead. Instantly.

'Bastard!' Kyle spat angrily into the air as he pumped his thin legs through the dark, lifeless streets. He didn't stop to take a single breath, to let him mind comprehend, or to even blink. He ran in obey of his instincts, until he finally reached bright, artificial light, and the deafening sound of city life drowning down his aggressive breaths.

What was that? A voice yelled inside Kyle's head. One second Kenny was walking as he waited for Kyle to do up his shoelaces. And just as Kyle rose up, a knife in hand to throw it straight through Kenny's neck, a flowerpot fell from a window above, miraculously hitting Kenny right on the head. It killed him with its force, before Kyle could do a thing.

Miraculous? Was that it? Was it just a miraculous coincidence? Of course it was. What else could it have been? But even still, the happening tore through Kyle's heart sardonically. He couldn't bring himself to feel joyous about the fact that he didn't have to have killed him himself. That nature did it for him. It was just too queer.

Kyle took his hood up just above his eyes and drew out a deep breath as he made his way through the lively people on the streets.

The redhead bashed the door shut behind him, locked it unskilfully, and quickly ran up the stairs of his flat to slam the office door open. No one. The room was dark and lifeless, yet somehow the lonely sight made Kyle relax into his feet. He breathed and he blinked, and he combed his thin fingers through his bright red hair as if to tame his thoughts.

One last, long breath shook the air of the office and Kyle could hear that his heartbeat completely slowed back to normal again. It's okay. Kenny was dead. What a lovely coincidence.

Sighing the knots in his brain out his nose, Kyle slowly pondered his feet to the door of his bedroom. He powerlessly shut the door behind him and let his body fall into the softness of the bed the second his foot hit the mattress.

What a night… Kyle had met not just one, but two of his childhood best friends. That wasn't a coincidence though, since Kyle was only in the bar knowing that the blond went there every three days. If anything, it was Stan's appearance that was not expected.

But that didn't matter anymore. Kenny was dead. Kyle would never see either of them ever again.

Finally sinking into relaxation, Kyle brought the blanket to his chin, hands gripping onto the comforter. In the distance he could hear his bedroom door open, and heavy footsteps echo until a heavy body sank into the empty spot beside him. But Kyle didn't care. He ignored the rough hands of his partner slide against his skin, touch him and grasp him selfishly. He was too tired. He just wanted to sleep. And he did, even as Christophe's hands and lips caressed his skin, he was able to fall into a deep, black sleep.

.

'Good morning, Kyle. God, your hair's a mess this morning,' the posh English accent greeted him with a smirk as the redhead dribbled his legs into the office with nothing but Christophe's trousers hanging from his slim hips.

'It is, is it?' Kyle mumbled with thin eyes, ruffling his red curls into a further cry for help as he dragged himself towards the dim-lit windows. 'Fuck, is it raining?'

'Raining flowerpots apparently,' Gregory answered sipping on his morning coffee. Kyle looked at him confusedly for a second, until a sudden pain shot through his head, shocking his mind wide awake.

'Was that on the news?' Kyle asked, voice a tone deeper. But his seriousness was dismissed with a sarcastic grunt.

'Yeah, right. No, I heard it on the radio this morning.'

'What, did someone just casually ring up to say that someone died from being hit by a falling flowerpot?' The redhead asked just as sarcastically. He waited for a clever remark back from the blond, but he only looked at Kyle with his cold silver eyes, taken aback.

'Who died?'

'What?'

'Who, died Kyle— nobody died.'

The sarcasm slowly disappeared from Kyle's emerald eyes as they widened from disbelief.

'No… Because didn't the flowerpot hit someone?'

'No,' Gregory mocked, 'They just said, "Careful about having sex with the window open you might accidently knock a flowerpot off the ledge".'

Blinking dumbly, once, twice— Kyle slowly leaned back into the window behind him, pressing his palm to his forehead, moaning slightly.

'That's weird… I swear someone got hit last night…'

'It's probably that hangover you have,' Gregory dismissed, taking another sip of his coffee. 'I've never actually seen you with a hangover before. Did you drink to blend in with the environment or did you drink for some comfort after you killed him?'

'Killed?' Kyle's palm slowly drew away from his forehead as he glanced at Gregory. 'Killed who?'

'Kenny, of course. Your childhood friend? I thought you went to the pub last night to do your job. Or are you saying that you couldn't do it at the last minute—'

'No I did it!' Kyle spat, pressing his palm to his head again.

'Oh, good.' The blond nodded approvingly with a wide gaze. 'How did you do it then?'

Kyle blinked. A deep blankness swept across his face as he looked into his thoughts, but jolted back to reality as a sharp pain attacked his head.

'Threw the knife through his cervical spine!' He exclaimed. 'Probably— I don't know…'

'What do you mean, "I don't know"?'

'Shut up! I just— I don't know, okay? I can't remember…' His head was throbbing now, and Gregory's stupid mumbling wasn't doing anything to help.

'You can't remember? What do you mean by that? Are you saying you drank so much that you can't even remember how you _killed_ your childhood friend?

'I said, shut the fuck up!' Kyle yelled, grasping onto his curls and pulling desperately. It wasn't the pain in his head that was excruciating, but something was pulsing inside like his brain was tied into one agonising knot.

What an unfortunate sight… Gregory thought to himself as he stared at Kyle through the corner of his eye, still sipping on his coffee.

'This is why I suggested Christophe for the job—'

A sudden fire ignited in emerald eyes. A fierce hand grasped onto the collar of Gregory's shirt, sinking the man deep into his chair as Kyle locked the blond under all fours. Sharp, hot breaths hit against Gregory's cheeks as deep green eyes glared into him.

'Don't you say that—' his simmering voice whispered. Gregory could feel the heat of Kyle's lips as they moved. 'Don't you say that. You promised you'd never give him a job again, you promised!'

Amusement swept across silver-blue eyes. It was as if the skinny boy pinning him down to his chair, staring into him with such a cold flame in his eyes, was actually threatening to kill his life. And Gregory found that amusing like no other. Amusing. Interesting. Beautiful…

So this was what all those people saw as they took their last breath…

Gregory leaned up half an inch, just enough so that their lips connected. Just for a taste.

'I _did_ promise.' The blond smiled, cool and still.

Grunting, Kyle let the man slip out of his murderous grip and hopped off his chair.

'I hope you left some fucking coffee for me too, asshole,' Kyle mumbled as he wobbled his way out the office, making the blond smirk lightly with a shrug.

Gently, Gregory rested his cup onto a coaster and slid out the desk draw. His fingers shuffled through the limited files until he finally reached the one he was looking for. He slid it out, took the first paper out of the file, and placed it upon his table. He stared at it, intently at the blond smiling in the photograph clipped to the corner as a pen twirled around skilfully between his index finger and thumb.

Smiling still, Gregory dropped the pen onto the table to replace it with a stamp. With a firm grip, he pressed the label across the photograph, inking the image with a bright red tag.

Kenneth McCormick: deceased.

* * *

**A.N- Thank you so much for reading, and love you for reviewing! Hope you're enjoying the story so far…**

**I'm leaving the country for a month so I am not sure when I'll update next. Maybe next week, maybe not (I didn't update T&R last year while I was in Japan). But I will be so happy for reviews if you want to motivate me… he he. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N- I actually wrote the last chapter after I finished chapter five. Just to let you know.**

**Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy~**

* * *

_Chapter Three: Caffeine is My Poison_

Kyle got a holiday, a nice long holiday, maybe for a week or so. It was humiliating to think that Gregory had sympathised with him for the job to kill his childhood friend, so Kyle thought that it was because Greg was powerlessly unable to get any jobs at the moment. Yes. That was a better thought: optimism, Kyle.

So, what to do with his holiday? Read a book? Read a series of books? He could read a whole fucking bookcase if he wanted to. He had a couple of days after all. Or as so he thought.

'Can I get a cappuccino please? Large. No sugar.' Kyle asked the pink-haired girl behind the counter. Her nose ring twitched as she smiled, but Kyle didn't notice, already having his nose dug into his book as he waited for his coffee. 'Thanks.' He said quickly, and took the coffee out to his favourite table outside.

The café was quiet, somewhat hidden away from the main streets to keep its vintage atmosphere. It accentuated the wonderful coffee, Kyle thought. It was worth the travel from his old, grimy apartment.

Kyle licked the taste of coffee off his lips and flicked the page of his book.

'What are you reading?' Light, cheery words came from above. What a normal person would have regarded as a friendly voice seemed to Kyle as irritating as the sound of a busy bee.

'Fuck off.' Kyle's mouth automatically said as his eyes stayed glued to the piece of paper.

'Oh, I get it.' The voice chuckled. Kyle's cup clattered against its saucer as the intruder dropped into the empty seat on his small table, making the redhead's eyebrow twitch. 'It's an erotic novel isn't it?'

Kyle finally flung his nose out of his book with a burning glare to kindly repeat his plead to 'FUCK OFF'. But before he could spit his distasteful words out, his voice was silenced as his book slipped out of his frozen fingers and fell heavily onto the table, knocking his coffee over in the process. Yet even as the hot liquid poured down the table and sprayed onto Kyle's jeans, sinking into his right thigh, the redhead couldn't feel a thing. His whole body went numb as he stared at the man sitting across him.

'Hey Scar,' he grinned widely. 'What, are you that surprised to see me?'

Kyle's heart was pounding, his breath was heavy, and he couldn't believe his eyes. Slowly, his lips quivered open, and he whispered the name he thought he would never call again.

'Kenny?'

'Great! You remembered me!' The blond laughed, not noticing the shock, even fear, in Kyle's face.

'Wh— Why are you here?' Kyle asked, his composure crumbling around him. But he just couldn't believe it.

Why was he there? Kyle killed him, only the other night.

Kyle squinted in discomfort. At least, he thought he killed him. He was positive he did, the idea was strong and irrefutable. Yet he couldn't remember how he killed him, or when and where they were. He remembered a bar, he remembered Kenny and Stan, but that was all. He couldn't remember Kenny's death, yet the idea, the fact, was strong and doubtless in his head.

'Why am I here?' Kenny chuckled defensively. 'I swear I'm not stalking you or anything! I just live close by, and I saw you so I thought I'd talk.'

Kyle gulped, or attempted to. Slowly, reality began to sink in as he grasped for his tranquil with steady hands. Okay, so clearly, Kenny was alive. Kyle had failed to kill him. But how? Was Gregory right? Was Kyle too drunk that night to carry on his job? Did he dream or hallucinate Kenny's death? Or was he just completely—

'Scar!' Kenny's soft, alarming voice shot Kyle out of his desperate thoughts, and suddenly faced the icy-blue orbs on the blond's face. 'Dude, are you okay? You seem pretty out of it.'

'No, I'm fine I just—' Kyle laughed softly, 'I just didn't think I'll see you here, that's all.'

'I can see that,' Kenny indicated the knocked-over cup and the coffee coated book.

'Oh, aw… God damn it!' Kyle muttered, lifting his book out of the pool of caffeine. Looking at the brown liquid drip from the pages of his book, Kyle sighed. He then dropped his eyes down to his leg, coffee sinking into his jeans and into his skin. He sighed again miserably, not noticing the icy-blue stare his wet thigh was getting from the blond across from him.

'I'm here because I live close by, you know?'

'Oh, yeah? That's lovely,' Kyle mumbled, trying to pinch away the wet fabric from his burnt skin.

'No, I mean,' the blond leaned over, smiling up into Kyle's miserable face, 'you could come to my place if you want.'

Kyle's red brows lifted as he watched Kenny lean away with his suggestive smile.

'Not very blunt today are we?' Kyle's sarcastic voice said again, making the blond chuckle.

'Are you seriously planning on walking around like that? I can smell you from here, you know?' Kenny challenged with a smirk. 'I can lend you one of my jeans if you want.'

The blond got up without waiting for a reply. There was a bitter pout on Kyle's mouth, most likely from the humiliation, but also because of the fact that the blond was right. Kyle wanted to avoid walking around in smelly, wet jeans. The burn stung a bit too, although Kyle wouldn't admit it.

So Kyle followed suit, and got up onto his feet as well.

They didn't wind through dark alleyways this time, although Kenny's apartment was squished at the end of one. It kind of reminded Kyle of his own home, how it hid well and stayed out of sight.

'Welcome,' Kenny said like a gentleman, although his eye glinted seductively, making Kyle smirk. Kyle past the blond without a word and climbed the stairs ahead, ignoring the attention his backside was getting from the man behind him.

A small twitch stopped Kyle at the top of the stairs. The place was a fucking pig's sty. The lack of furniture in the living room was replaced with the empty beer cans, take away food trays and dirty (or clean, Kyle couldn't really tell) clothes scattered everywhere. Kyle had lived in a men-only environment for quite some time, and although every room except for the office was never neat, he never had to face a disastrous place like this.

'Um… so, take a seat,' Kenny said, picking up a few clothes from the floor. Kyle's eyes turned to the couch occupied by magazines and newspapers as Kenny nodded towards the hallway. 'I'll go… get some pants.'

Grimacing, Kyle took an empty plastic bag from the floor and pushed every single piece of "rubbish" inside, first to give the couch some space, but not stopping there. He only stopped once he filled five rubbish bags and an (almost lifelessly) empty, or neat, room.

The redhead dropped himself on the now-clean couch and sighed, finally being able to relax enough to peal his rather disgusting jeans off his skin and place them beside him. With a hasty click, Kyle undid the buckle of the leather sheath tied around his ankle and hid the knife in his coat pocket. He exhaled softly, looking at his half-naked self. The soft, pale skin of his right thigh had dyed into a peachy pink from the mild burn, causing an annoying sting. Well, at least the café didn't make their coffee so damn hot.

In the other room, Kenny sighed in relief. Eureka! He had finally found a nice, neat pair of jeans for Kyle. Grinning softly, he slid something into the pocket as he hopped onto his two feet and made his way back to the living room. But the second he arrived, leaving the shadow of the hallway to enter the bright living room, he froze. His icy-blue eyes slowly widened, reflecting the vibrant red of the sunset glowing in the window as his grip on the jeans unconsciously loosened.

It felt like his heart completely stopped when he saw him.

Kyle was sitting on the old, ragged couch, right leg bent to rest his foot on the coffee table. The window dyed in fresh-blood red, glowing blindly, drowning the whole room in its colour. Kyle's red hair was covering his face as he bent down to inspect his naked leg, thin, frail fingers brushing against the soft white skin of his thighs as he did. The rays soaring through the gap between Kyle's arched back and couch shone like fiery wings, turning him into a holy creature so beautiful, that he longer seemed mortal.

'Oh good, you got me jeans.'

A human face was staring at him. Kenny suddenly jolted back to life, finally noticing that he was staring like an artist awe-struck by Michelangelo's marble sculpture. Without being able to say a word, he threw the jeans to Kyle, who caught it with confusion tensing the muscles in his face.

'Hey, do you have a first aid kit or something? I kind of burnt my leg a little.' Kyle called, leaving the jeans next to him on a couch.

'Oh, yeah, sure.' Kenny muttered, scavenging the cupboards of the kitchen. A second later he returned with nothing but a small metal tin in his hand. 'I only have this, but apparently you can use it on burns as well. It works like magic though, I swear.'

The blond dropped into the empty spot next to Kyle, handing him out the small tin. But just as Kyle's fingers reached for it, Kenny closed his hand and flicked his wrist up, hiding the tin from the redhead with a challenging grin on his lips.

'Let me do it for you,' he murmured, looking deep into Kyle's widened emeralds. But before the redhead could accept the offer, Kenny kneeled onto the cleaned floor in front of Kyle, right in between his legs. He flicked the lid of the tin off and spread a small amount of the lemon-coloured cream onto his ring finger, staring at Kyle's exposed thigh. 'Is it here?' he asked, brushing his index finger along the pink area of skin, but before he could repeat the motion, Kyle's hand grabbed his wrist, stopping it instantly.

'No, it's right—' Kyle's hand slowly drew down, trailing Kenny's finger deeper into his inner thigh, until he reached the spot and twirled Kenny's digit around in a small circle on his vulnerable skin. 'There,' Kyle finished, letting the blond's hand go so that it could do it's "magic".

'Oh-Kay…' Kenny let out a subtle breath, cupping the back Kyle's knee to push it further into the air to treat the burn. 'It won't sting at all, I promise.'

'It better not,' Kyle chuckled before Kenny slid the tip of his ring finger along the specified area on Kyle's thigh, spreading the cream along the sting. A small shiver rushed through both of them as he did, but neither of them did anything to point the fact out.

That moment lasted a little too long for Kyle's liking, sitting there, exposed and forced to look at Kenny's focused face and feel his finger caress his skin. Kyle hid it well enough, but inside he was conflicted. He found that moment strangely humiliating, yet confused about that fact. He had shown more than just his thighs to strangers and felt more than the brush of a ring finger to finish a job. But he had never felt this sense of red inside him before, this sense of humiliation, and consequently yet secretively, embarrassment.

So he chose to take his mind away from those useless and confusing emotions and focused on the man in front of him. Kenny's breathing, his moving— his existence. How to stop it. God, to imagine the look on Gregory's face when Kyle told him that Kenny wasn't dead: it was just infuriating. "Oh, it's okay Kyle, everyone makes mistakes," he would say, with a grin that read "except for me". But as Kyle focused back on reality and looked at the blond in front of him treating his wound, that all disappeared. As he looked at Kenny, his long, blond lashes relaxed over his intent eyes, all that was left was blankness in his head, and one voice.

_Kill_.

'There, that should be fine,' Kenny said, twisting the lid back onto the small tin, still kneeling in between Kyle's naked legs.

'Thanks. And for the jeans too, by the way,'

_Kill_.

'Aw, are you putting them on already?' Kenny pouted, his fingers delicately walking up Kyle's knee resting on his shoulder.

Kyle chuckled, slowly leaning into Kenny's face with a tempting grin to breathe into the blond's ear.

'Unless you give me a reason to keep them off…'

_Kill him._

The redhead leaned out to lightly smirk at Kenny's widened eyes. But then with a growing smile, they narrowed, melting the icy-blue into a simmering pit of boiling heat. Keeping a burning eye-contact with the redhead, Kenny slid his gentle fingers from Kyle's knee, slowly down and around to the hem of his boxer briefs, just at the softest part of his thigh.

_Now._

As Kenny's eyes drew down, all emotions swept away from Kyle's seductive grin and eyes. His fingers, tucked deep into the pocket of his coat, silently began to tighten their hold around the grip of his small hunting knife. Where to slice through? The back of his neck? Or lower in the spinal chord. Let Kenny's clothes catch the blood before it sprays onto his hand. His grip in his pocket tightened as Kyle thought through how to stop the blond's life.

Kenny's fingers slowly slid through the hem of Kyle's underwear, eagerly patient and coming so close…

_Kill him. Now. Through the back._

Kyle tensed subtly to slide the knife out of its sheath silently, preparing to fling it out of his pocket. Fast and quick, as if he was the wind, and slice through the blades of Kenny's spine.

_Now_—

A sudden shock tore through Kyle's heart, a rush of coldness instantly running through his body. The blond blinked as he watched Kyle tense and eyes widen, and that was when the small creaking filled the silent room.

The heavy footsteps instantly stopped, and Kyle was staring into deep blue eyes.

'K—' the man with the deep blue eyes closed his mouth, and turned his bitterly narrowed eyes away from Kyle to Kenny. 'What the fuck are you doing?'

Kenny's eyes widened on Kyle, and then he turned to face the intruder, slipping his hand away from the redhead's thigh as Kyle dropped his leg off of Kenny's shoulder.

'Oh, hey Stan,' the blond said with an awkward smile tensing his lips. '_You're_ home early.'

'Yeah, well, I didn't get the milk.' Stan muttered, breaking eye contact to fling his bag onto the kitchen table. He sank his palms onto the edge of the cheap timber, leaning in to rest the heaviness weighing on his shoulders, and let out a small, exasperated sigh. 'What the fuck is _he_ doing here anyway?' He nodded swiftly at Kyle, still without eye contact.

'What? Scar? He spilt coffee on himself at the café, so I lent him my jeans and treated his burn.' Kenny answered with a chuckle, tapping Kyle's knee. Stan's eye twitched at the contact, or was it at the blond's playfulness? It was only Kyle that caught Stan's expression but he dismissed it as pathetic jealously. He had no interest in other's affairs.

Face now bored and blank, dull even, hiding the irritation towards Stan's intrusion and the missed opportunity to finish the job, Kyle stood up and slid into Kenny's jeans, picking up his own wet ones from the couch.

'Thanks for the jeans Kenny. See ya,' he muttered monotonously, ignoring bitter glare from the brunet as he took the steps towards the door and shut it behind him.

Kyle clicked his tongue as he rushed down the stairs and exited the old building, out into the alleyway. _Fuck_. He was so close. So close to finishing him off. And now he had to go home to tell Gregory how he misinformed him. That he had "oh, so clumsily" thought that he had killed Kenny McCormick, but failed to do so.

Ruffling his red locks frustratingly, Kyle sighed and turned his heels to head home, that is, until a quick _slam_ from behind stopped his feet.

'Oh hey,' Kenny smiled as they met eyes, breath slightly heavy, 'didn't think I'd see you here.'

'Because your friend didn't just kick me out a minute ago?' Kyle scoffed with a quirked-up brow.

'He didn't kick you out.'

'Yeah? Well his eyes did.'

Kenny frowned at Kyle's bitter words, but he nodded heavily. 'Yeah, I'm sorry about him. He can be a people-hating emo-goth sometimes.'

A short laughter blew out of Kyle's mouth unexpectedly, making the redhead blush at his own uncontrolled action.

'No, it's just— your wording…' Kyle stuttered, lifting his hand up in defence, 'emo-goth?'

The blond shrugged, 'Well, that's Stan for ya.'

A soft, unconscious chuckle escaped Kyle's nose as he glanced up at Kenny's shared apartment. Yes. That was Stan all right. As he stared up into the shadowless window, Kenny watched him. The way the dark red of the sky reflected in Kyle's cold emerald eyes and made them glow…

'What?' Kyle's eyes, now sharp and alarmed, stared into Kenny's forgotten ones, making the blond blink back to reality.

'No, nothing—' he said to himself, 'I was just wondering if… you'd like some coffee?'

Kyle laughed with disbelief, 'Really? After pouring it all over my leg you think I haven't had enough coffee for the day?'

'Well, you know… that's why I guess. I mean, it was pretty much my fault that you activated your clumsiness, so I kind of…' Kenny chuckled, 'owe you one.'

Kyle's lips subtly lifted into a small smile. A chance—

'Sure.'

His answer made Kenny's grin grow.

Their journey to the café was, overall, humble, with nothing but civil conversations coated with light flirtations. Kyle didn't say anything, but laughed and made a concerned sound every time needed, as he focused more on his hand in his coat pocket, playing with the small metal case hiding inside. And within a few minutes, they had reached the café.

'I'll have a long black a-nd— cappuccino?' Kyle nodded. 'Yeah, a cappuccino please.' Kenny ordered, flicking out his wallet.

Kyle watched the server intently, watching her every move as she made the long black first, waiting for the right moment.

'Hey Kenny? Didn't Stan say that he didn't get milk or something?'

Kenny furrowed his eyes at Kyle's casual question. 'Yeah he did, didn't he?'

'Then why don't you get some milk from here? Over there in the fridge.'

There was a small, glass refrigerator behind them, inside filled with bottles of milk, the rich, special milk that they used at the café and sold to customers in bottles.

Kenny raised his eyebrows.

'Well, they aren't the average milk that I'd get at the supermarket, but— why not?' He shrugged and walked towards the fridge.

At that second the server reached out the cup of coffee over the counter.

'Long black?' she asked, and Kyle took it with a smile. 'Cappuccino?'

'Thanks,' Kyle said, taking the two cups into his hand. With the rich smell of coffee tickling his brain, Kyle turned to the blond who was just about to reach out to get the longer lasting milk at the back. 'Kenny, I'll be waiting outside.'

'Okay.'

The soft smile dropped from Kyle's lips as he walked out onto the quiet street outside. Placing his own cup onto the table and shoving that empty hand inside his pocket, Kyle drunk the long black, scrunched his face up at the strong bitter taste, and put it onto the table beside his own to open the lid and check inside. It was all an act. To pretend mistaking Kenny's and his drink so he could open Kenny's coffee without suspicion. In that short second, Kyle swiftly took out one capsule from the metal case in his pocket and dropped it into the long black as he shut the lid back on.

'Here,' Kyle reached the cup out to Kenny as he came out of the café. The blond smiled and took it into his hand. 'Watch out though, it's pretty hot.'

They walked side by side, neither drinking their coffee as they waited for them to 'cool down' a little. It was once they entered a secluded alleyway that Kyle took his first sip easily, and as if that was a call, Kenny unconsciously followed suit and gulped his own drink down as well.

Subtly from the corner of his eye, Kyle watched like a hawk, gripping onto the thin metal case in his pocket as he watched Kenny gulp down his coffee.

Letting out a bitter breath and a sharp inhale, Kenny licked his lips and stared at his coffee with narrowed eyes.

'Urgh…' he groaned, making that his last word before he collapsed onto the ground.

'Kenny?' The redhead murmured, kneeling down beside the unconscious blond. He listened intently to the blond's mouth, bringing his sleeve to his nose to save himself from the smell of bitter almond as he did.

No sound. It worked.

Kyle's eyes slowly widened into stones as he leaned back away from Kenny's face.

He had killed him.

Sighing softly with relief, Kyle placed his two fingers onto Kenny's unresponsive wrist and neck, waited, and let out another sigh. Relief, was it? Kyle looked at the still face of the handsome man, now dead, and rocked up onto his feet. He stared at the blond one last time, not a muscle in the face tensed and eyes heavy and cold.

'Bye Kenny,' Kyle murmured, taking the bottle of milk from the ground and the poisoned cup out of Kenny's hand before turning his back onto his dead childhood friend.

.

The keys rang in his ears as Kyle opened the door of his flat with a milk bottle, the two coffee cups now thrown away in a busy main-street rubbish bin.

A sudden vision crossed Kyle's mind, a pale, dark image of his old friend's dead body leaning against an alleyway wall. It made a soft, emotionless chuckle leak out of the redhead's mouth. Kyle had already a number of bodies lying beneath his feet, their bones cracking and flesh rotting with every step Kyle took. And now Kenny, his old childhood friend, was amongst that pile, and Kyle could not care less about it. Not a single trace of humanness in him was left and it made Kyle see himself as what he was: a walking corpse.

He put the milk in the fridge on the way as he dragged his tired body up the stairs and into the office. But his body tensed the moment he opened the door.

Kyle glanced at his couch and the long body lying on it, unresponsive to Kyle's entrance. A soft breath leaked out of Kyle's nose once he acknowledged that the man was asleep and he took quiet steps to his bedroom to dispose his coffee-smelling jeans. But just as his hand reached for the handle, he felt bony fingers wrap around his wrist, making Kyle's heart jump.

'Where were you?' Hazel eyes stared up into emerald greens.

'Oh, hey Chris,' Kyle's heart stuttered in his chest, 'I thought you were sleeping.'

'I was,' the brunet yawned, stopping mid-breath with a noticing blink. 'Where is that from?' He nodded at the jeans loose on Kyle's hips and dragging along the hems, clearly a little big for the scrawny redhead.

As Kyle opened his mouth to say 'nowhere', the firm hand around his wrist yanked him down, successfully twirling the redhead's world around until he was lying on the couch, trapped underneath Christophe staring down at him intently.

'What are you—' Kyle gasped as Christophe slid his long fingers along the fabric on Kyle's thigh seductively, until he reached the depths of Kyle's pocket and took out a small piece of paper.

'A phone number,' Christophe stated, looking at the piece of paper, eyebrows raised in amusement as Kyle's rose in alarm.

'Look, I have no—' but Kyle's useless words were instantly silenced as aggressive lips ate at his own, dark fingers tightening their grip around Kyle's wrist murderously as he kissed him. A deep moan cried in Kyle's throat from the sudden arousal and pain, his right hand gripping onto the couch as his other tensed inside Christophe's merciless grip.

Yet then again, even as Christophe released Kyle's mouth to bite on his neck and released his wrist to slide it against Kyle's skin, Kyle merely sank into the couch, said and did nothing to stop the brunet's lust. He relaxed his body as Christophe worked on the front of Kyle's jeans, kissing the redhead's navel and hips as he did. And the redhead silently slid his hands into Christophe's hair, hugging his head and caressing him gently, his empty eyes staring into the distance as Christophe took him possessively into his mouth.

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**A.N- Jesus Christ, I should really stop writing shouldn't I?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N- Thank you everyone that reviewed last chapter! And sorry that I haven't replied. I will continue writing, I just get a little disappointed after re-reading my chapter and lose my energy to write, until I receive your review that is! I then write more, he he. Me never learn.**

**I hope you enjoy~**

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_Chapter Four: Invisible Chains_

The first thing Kyle noticed when he opened his heavy eyelids was the thumping headache in the middle of his brain. Frustration overcame him, but he didn't think too much of it. It was probably from the lack of sleep he got from the aggressive sex last night.

Noticing the heavy arms tied around him, Kyle carefully slid out of Christophe's hold and out of the bed, letting out a silent groan as he held his thumping head in his palm. But as he firmly closed his eyes, staring into the blackness behind his lids, a single fact whispered in his head: Kenny was dead.

His pale hand slowly drew away from his forehead as the small fact entered his mind. But just as light entered his opening eyes another flick of a pain shot through his head and he groaned his eyes back shut.

Kenny was dead. He met him yesterday, he remembered that; the new pair of jeans he had was proof. But the one single most important memory could not be found in his brain: how he killed him. Their parting, Kenny's final breath, nothing that resembled the end was in his memory. Only the one, single fact was sure, that he killed him.

Then what was this bitter taste twirling in his stomach?

He got to his feet as quietly as he could, not even bothering to slip into some clothes as he made his way to the small bin and picked up the scrunched up piece of paper that was lying on the top. Picking up his phone from the floor, Kyle typed in the number scribbled on the piece of paper. Why was he doing this? The distasteful question whispered in his ear, but he ignored it as he typed in a message to the phone number Kenny had slipped into his pocket the previous day.

"_Hi, this is Scar."_

No subject, just those four words. As he stared at the screen of his phone he didn't know what he was expecting, just the simple question, "why are you doing this?" was echoing inside his head. He knew he was dead, even though he didn't remember it. He just needed to make sure…

"_Hey Scar."_

Kyle jumped as his phone vibrated inside his hand and his emerald eyes widened at the simple message of reply. Desperate to calm himself, Kyle breathed, closed his eyes for a second, then typed in a message with a cold heart.

"_Is this Stan?"_ Kyle asked the only possible explanation for receiving a message from the phone of the dead.

He could hear the agonising ticking of time in his head as he waited for a reply, his breath secretly becoming heavier with every second he waited. And then finally his phone vibrated again to announce the message that Kyle was sure to confirm what he already knew.

"_No."_ Kyle's eyes froze and his lips lightly parted as he read on. _"This is Kenny."_

He met him yesterday.

He could still remember the smell of coffee sinking into his jeans, the sensation of Kenny feeling his leg, and Stan's glare on his back as he left the small hidden apartment with boiling frustration.

But Kenny was still alive. How did that happen? Did he simply leave after that without finishing the job? Why would he do such a thing? Because of Stan's intrusion? The missed chance? What?

A small _beep_ rang through the room and Kyle slipped into some loose clothes before trotting out the bedroom, leaving Christophe alone. He placed the phone to his ear and listened intently, his breath and thumping heart desperate to keep quiet.

'Hello?' The voice answered, bright and cheery, as if to leak a smile through the speakers.

'Kenny?' Kyle asked, his voice a tensed whisper.

'Scar? Hey! Hoped that I'd get a message!' Kenny's voice cheered happily, oblivious to the cold and silent panic stiffening Kyle's lungs. 'Sorry about yesterday. Stan's kind of like a douchebag.'

A strained chuckle escaped Kyle's lips as the redhead clasped his fringe in confusion.

'No, um, it's okay,' Kyle answered half-heartedly, then gulped silently as he tried to scavenge his thoughts together and organise them in a breath. 'So, where you okay after that? I mean, you two?'

'What, me and Stan? Yeah, we're fine!' the light voice chuckled. 'Yeah, Stan asked me about you and stuff, pretty pissed, but I told him it's none of his business. He's not talking to me now, but everything's fine dude, really!'

Kyle was nodding, impatiently waiting for Kenny to finish his words. Whatever he was saying was entering one ear and shooting out the other. He couldn't care less about what happened between the two, whatever they had had to end sometime anyway. The sooner the better.

'Hey? Are you doing anything now?' Kyle asked, trying to adapt a playful tone in his voice.

'No,' a chuckle answered, with Kenny's soft voice, 'why?'

'I just want to see you again.'

.

His footsteps were short and heavy, yet swift and quick, and silent. They didn't echo around the secluded street, but ended with a simple _tap, tap, tap._ Yet that was enough to make the blond turn around and smile at the person he found walking towards him.

'Hey—'

The blond's next words were silenced under the choking in the pits of his throat. His widened eyes froze with an emotionless colour, and slowly looked down. What appeared to be a wooden grip was sticking out of his chest. It took him a second to realise that it was a knife digging into him, thin blade slid in between his ribs, tearing through the skin, muscle, to reach the source of life underneath and slice through it.

His eyes rose back up, wider than ever to stare into the figure in front of him, before slowly shutting, his whole body collapsing to the ground.

The blade was slid out of his chest to let a flood of blood escape his body and flow through the gaps of the stoned ground. But before the red liquid could reach the standing feet before the lying body, the shoes kicked the ground and escaped, not letting a single drop of the blond reach out to him as he fled the scene.

Kyle did not stop for one breath until his legs finally reached his house and the door shut securely behind him. He was experiencing something that he hadn't in such a long time. Panic. Hastiness. Improvidence. Turbulence… He just killed Kenny. Without a plan, without a thought: he did it out of sheer panic. But why? All his jobs until now, he was able to do them with tranquillity, a sense of numb coldness in his chest. But today, now, he was in raging knots.

But it was over. Kyle slid his knife right through Kenny's heart.

.

Their television was not big, its role not major in the life of the three men's lives. Yet as a rare occasion, it was on, and not on the global news for that matter, but a small local restaurant tour show. Kyle watched the screen with eyes half lidded with boredom, body too slothful to even press the button on the remote controller to change the channel.

'You can do some work if you want you know?' the English accent called out to the redhead spread across his designated couch. 'Instead of lying there mindlessly watching stupid shows.'

Kyle grumbled an answer, or more so made a noise that indicated his lack of interest in Gregory's words as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. The narrator had entered a bakery. A bakery? Or was it a small restaurant? A bakery restaurant? The small place was packed with people talking over each other and laughing, making it difficult to hear the narrator's voice, if Kyle was listening to anything she was saying. She moved through the packed place, squeezing through the tables and people, until she reached the kitchen-slash-bakery at the back.

'What do you think has helped this restaurant becoming so successful?' The interviewer asked one of the chefs working away.

'Well, I think it's definitely the bread,' the large chef answered, 'we bake our bread all throughout the day so it's fresh for anytime we serve it at the restaurant. And we also make sure that everything else is fresh too, of course. Freshness! That's it.'

Nodding, the narrator walked deeper into the kitchen to what seemed like another room reserved for the baking, at least, it could be seen that way by the large fireplace. The narrator walked straight to the baker sliding tins of dough into the luring fire.

A heavy crash filled the room, making Gregory tilt his eyes from the screen of his desktop, to the thin boy lying on the couch. He had not moved an inch from a minute ago; he was completely frozen in fact. A little further down and Gregory found the source of the noise: the remote controller had fallen from Kyle's slender fingers onto the ground, the back had flung off and the batteries were rolling around to different corners of the room.

'What's wrong?' Gregory asked the frozen young man, but without even a twitch of a reply, the blond followed Kyle's gaze and watched the television. And at that second, he felt his eyes widen.

The man on the screen was answering the interviewer's questions with a bright smile on his thin lips. His icy-blue eyes twinkled from the burning fire beside him and the slight trace of sweat running down his tensed neck. His face was exposed as his long messy fringe was not swaying into his eyes, but pulled back by the white bandana tied behind his head. And that exposed face, no matter how unbelievable, was definitely—

'Kenny McCormick?' Gregory's words shocked Kyle's frozen body back to life. 'Is that Kenny McCormick?'

Green emerald eyes looked widely into Gregory's rich blue ones, expression blank with confusion and surprise.

'I thought you said you killed him?'

'I did!' Kyle exclaimed without thought, heat now simmering in Kyle's emerald eyes.

'Then why is he on live television now?

Kyle's eyes tensed. The pores of his head stood his hair up as he tensed his lips into a single straight line, a step away from chewing on his lip. The burning silence filled the room as Kyle sat there drenched in confusion and incomprehensible rage, while Gregory watched him with an emotionless face, not a single muscle tensed as he observed the redhead, almost pitifully.

Without a hint of receiving a response, Gregory got up from his chair and crossed the room, turning the television off before placing himself onto the coffee table, as mannerless he thought it was, and stared into Kyle's now surprised eyes.

'What are you not telling me Kyle?'

The redhead tucked his knees to his chest and averted his eyes from the blond distastefully. Blue eyes twitched, and Gregory caught Kyle's fine chin in his hand and forced their eyes to meet.

'Don't act like a imbecilic child Kyle, and answer me.'

The heat of anger burned in Kyle's eyes for a quick second, before they slowly burnt out, and the emerald greens rolled down as if to hide from the cold blue.

'Four days after I told you I killed him…' Kyle began quietly, like a whisper, eyes hiding under his curled fringe, 'I met him at a café. I was surprised and spilt coffee on my jeans, and then he took me to his house and let me borrow one of his pants. He also treated my burn. But then Stan— his flatmate, yeah, came back and I missed my chance to kill him. I left after that, annoyed.'

Gregory's eyes did not loosen their firm coldness, but he nodded at Kyle's words, urging him to continue.

'And then… just a few days ago, we met up somewhere, secluded… I remember him saying "hi", but I don't remember what happened after that…' The long, slender fingers slid away from Kyle's skin as Gregory leaned his elbows into his knees, looking deep into Kyle's lifeless eyes.

'The thing is,' Kyle continued, 'I always think that he's dead. I always think that I finish the job, but he's still there, like now on the TV. I just— I don't know…'

'So you don't have the actual memory of killing him?'

Kyle bit his inner lip before answering a small, 'No'.

'Do you not want to kill him?'

Kyle's wondering eyes suddenly swang up to meet Gregory's firm blues.

'Why?'

'Well, maybe you are having these delusions that you _have_ killed him even when you haven't. So you can avoid killing him in reality.'

'Why the fuck would I do that?'

A heavy silence wrapped the two in its arms as Gregory took in Kyle's burning eyes nonchalantly.

'Because he used to be your best friend.'

Friend. Kyle stared at the word in the eye as if it did not affect him.

'Why would that matter? Do you seriously think that that would stop me from doing my job?'

'Honestly?' Gregory smirked at himself. 'No, I don't.'

'Good. Because it doesn't, and won't.'

Gregory took in Kyle's firm glare and chuckled, tapped him gently on the knee, and got back to his feet to return back to his desk. Kyle sighed softly in exhaustion, and glanced at the television. But now, even with the screen a blank canvas of black, to Kyle it was as if he could still see that mirthful blond smiling lightly in the television.

.

A month had past, and with every day, the heat of frustration seemed to be burning inside Kyle stronger and stronger. The twenty rounds of the vintorez Kyle received from Christophe was now empty, yet apparently not a single one had entered a human body.

Kenny McCormick was still alive.

Kyle disliked guns, especially sniper rifles. The killing machine did not give him the sense of reality of taking away a human life. It was quick, and quiet, like a silent breath whispering in the ear, and then far away there would lay a dead body.

That was why Kyle would rather kill with his own hands, feel the dying blood on his own skin, drown in the reality of taking away a life, because that way, it was easier to kill himself as well. When he entered his knife into another's flesh and shower in their blood, he could almost pretend that that tearing skin and blood was his own. A new part of him would die, and make it easier next time. But a gun, a gun did not do that.

The redhead would only use a silenced rifle when the job was urgent; when he was desperate, and after that talk with Gregory, he as definitely desperate. It was almost as if he had to prove that he felt nothing, even towards killing his own childhood friend. He had to kill Kenny, as quickly as possible without any emotion and return back to his dead self.

And so he took the rifle into his hands, built it quickly, aimed it at the back of the unsuspecting blond's head, and then pulled the trigger, although he had no memory of ever pulling it. He did that twenty times over the past month, and somehow Kenny had survived every one of them.

Or was it… No, Kyle dismissed the thought as quickly as it entered his mind. He couldn't have been unconsciously hiding a bullet every time, as if there was a person inside him that was trying to deceive himself. It was impossible. Even thinking that Kyle had stupidly missed every single shot was more likely.

Yet the month had proved one thing, that the gun was useless.

Kyle sighed and sank deep into his bed, his arm extended into the air to hover his mobile phone above his face. There were nineteen new messages, all received over the past month, all that mockingly reminded him that Kenny was still alive. On receiving the messages Kyle would look at the sender, read Kenny's name, and not bother to open it, finding out the one needed information that Kenny still lived.

A sudden vibration shot through Kyle's hand and jolted the redhead out of his thoughts. He stared at the glowing screen, one new message from Kenny, and sighed again, dropping his arm to his side on the mattress. The messages were normally not longer than a "hi", but that was definitely enough to weigh down on Kyle.

As his sigh died down and silence began to echo around his room, a small rustling entered his ears. With the weight of a feather Kyle slid out of his bed and onto his feet, followed the sound and crossed the room, and opened his bedroom door silently, only a few inches so he could peek through.

His bright green eyes landed on his couch right beside the door, and he watched the rustling sound, the silent moans and groans. He watched as the two men entwined together uncomfortably. He watched as Gregory fucked Christophe on his couch.

Kyle hated it when they did that, on his couch, at least. And it created a subtle twitch in the pit of his stomach as he watched. The brunet's exposed muscle and scars etched forever into his olive skin, tensing and twitching with each of Gregory's thrusts. Kyle watched as the two shot back and forward against his couch harshly, like animals, and slowly he drew back, closing the door and hiding away behind it.

There was still a hot sensation in the pit of his stomach. He knew what was coming next. Christophe would come to Kyle and spread his skinny legs. And Kyle would let him. Not a word, not a movement, not a breath of protest, Kyle would let Christophe have him, even moan and move for him, and become one. That was what was coming next.

Kyle, now with heavy feet, moved to his bed and dropped himself back on the mattress. Through drooping eyelids he glanced at his phone laying beside him, stared into the black screen reflecting his expressionless face, and grabbed the device in his hand.

Kenny, Kenny, Kyle thought as he typed in a message, why won't you die?

"_Hey Kenny."_

"_Hey Scar! Thought you've forgotten about me."_

"_I won't forget about you"_

But you will be, soon, Kyle promised the blond now receiving the message in his airy apartment.

"_I want to see you."_

He promised himself.

The tension in his arm flowed away and it dropped with the phone back into the mattress. Lightly closing his eyes, Kyle waited. Behind the darkness of his eyelids, he turned on the television of his memory and watched the blond shining beside the oven, and waited.

'_Is that nearly ready?_

'_Yeah, just give it another minute or so.'_

'_Exciting. So, Kenny, what do you love most about your job?'_

'_Well the free food's pretty cool, I get the left over's 'cause they know I'm as poor as shit-takemashrooms... I love making food though, and bread, the most ancient of that. To make something that gives people energy, that makes them smile so lively, it feels amazing; it's like giving life! …God, look at that! Perfect. It smells so good, don't you think? Here, have one.'_

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**A.N- This story is slowly, but surely, moving forward. I will try and get back to you if you have any questions. But I think most of them will be answered in the future. Thank you for reading. **


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five: More Important than Life_

The smell of freshly baked bread entered his nostrils, and from it, he could tell the hot crunch of the crust and the warm stickiness of the dough. And for once, Kyle felt hunger, the subtle urge to taste the bread in his mouth, feel it melt on his tongue, and swallow it; it burned his gut in a strangely non-repulsive manner. It was a rare, even unusual feeling. Food wasn't a strong part of Kyle's needs: he rarely felt hunger and only ate what he thought was necessary for human functioning.

Kyle looked up into the sky with his blank face, not a muscle tensed to show emotion. There was a slight pinkish colour in the blue sky, preparing for a sunset somewhere behind the tall urban buildings. He let out a small breath and released it into the changing sky.

'Hey! Scar!' Kyle flung around at the call and stitched on a warm smile onto his lips. The blond was jogging towards him; hair just freed from the white bandana was subtly powdered obliviously with flour.

'Hi Kenny,' Kyle answered as the distance between them closed.

'Sorry, hope you didn't wait long.'

Kyle shook his head, and noticed again, even with the restaurant-slash-café-slash-bakery now closed, the smell of freshly baked bread. Now it was even stronger, the smell, it came with Kenny.

'You smell good.'

Kenny raised his eyebrows with a wide grin.

'Is that an invitation?' His words drew a smirk out of the redhead and the blond chuckled lightly, raising his hand to show a small paper bag. 'It's probably this. I thought you'd be hungry so—'

Kyle took the paper bag into his hands, slightly warm, and checked inside to find two fresh butter rolls. Without a word, forgetting to speak, Kyle took one out, carefully tore a side off (the steamy bread almost stretching like cheese as he did), and plopped it into his mouth.

It really _did_ melt on his tongue.

'Did you make this?' Kenny nodded with a grin. The tension in Kyle's face had dropped, the killer forgetting to put on a fake smile as he tasted the delicious bread and felt it warm himself from his stomach to his cheeks. 'It's really good.'

For a second, Kenny thought he saw a small smile on the redhead's lips, not the flirtatious smirk he usually wore, but a much more fragile and subtle lift of the lips Scar himself probably would not have noticed. And for some reason, for that short moment, Kenny sank into an amazed trance.

'What?' Kenny blinked back to reality, a small shock shooting through his brain as he found piercing green eyes staring into him. 'What are you looking at?' he asked, with unintended tension.

'What? Ah— nothing it's just—' the blond rolled his lips and chuckled nervously before continuing with a soft voice. 'It's just, you reminded me of an old friend, you know? It's nothing—'

Kenny did not look into Kyle's eyes as he spoke, rather looking down into the old asphalt, past the deep dark grey and into his thoughts. But Kyle didn't urge Kenny for more words, did not ask him to continue. He knew exactly whom he was talking about. Automatically, they both began to walk, in silence, side by side.

'So, where do you wanna go?' Kenny asked brightly a few moments later, just realising how they did not have a destination.

'Hmm… I don't know,' Kyle murmured, sliding his hand onto Kenny's shoulder and subtly squeezing the toned muscle as he glanced into the blue eyes watching him. 'Your place?'

The suggestion brought a smile to the blond's lips.

'With pleasure.'

The two butter rolls were shared among them, the paper bag now thrown away into a rotting city bin. With every step closer they took to Kenny's apartment, the more the familiar cold and hard sensation was returning to the pit of Kyle's stomach. But he did not forget to keep a smile on his lips.

Kyle let Kenny lead them into the house and up the stairs this time. He could feel the leather of his sheath subtly rub against his ankle as he watched Kenny's back in the narrow, dark staircase. His body automatically tensed, preparing to swing the knife out to dig it into the blond's spine; he could already see the blood splatter across his face, the warm liquid, the red, blinding him. But his brain haltered him, not now, not now, make sure you are alone…

And his brain was right. When the two finished climbing the stairs and opened the door to enter the blond's apartment, they were greeted by the muttering of the television and the dark glance of a certain brunet.

'Oh, hey Stan,' Kenny smiled innocently, 'didn't think you'd be here.'

'What do you mean? It's fucking Saturday dude.' The dark blue eyes returned to the television before meeting Kyle's piercing ones beside Kenny, who muttered a small 'oh, yeah,' at Stan's words.

Icy-blue looked questioningly at Kyle, 'do you want to go somewhere else, then?'

'Sounds good,' Kyle shrugged, trying not to glance, furthermore, glare, at the brunet spread across the couch as he followed the blond out the door.

'See ya later Stan!'

There was so answer. But when the door clicked shut behind the two, the silent sound of a tensing jaw shuddered the room.

'He really does hate me huh?' Kyle asked with a lowed voice, projected to Kenny as if he really cared about the brunet's hostile attitude towards him.

'Forget about him—' Kenny swang his arm around the concern-looking redhead. 'He's just jealous that he's all alone on a Saturday night.'

Jealous that you're not there with him on a Saturday night— Kyle chuckled, playing with the hem of Kenny's sleeve that was now resting on his shoulder. But it was at that second, as Kyle's fingers lightly brushed against the skin of Kenny's wrist, that a sudden wave of confusion shot a shudder through Kyle's chest and stomach. What was this intimacy?

Kenny was a light-assed flirt, quick to seek act and give up. And although they had been flirting and seducing each other since they met as Scar and Kenny, it had been a month since they met without even going near the bed (although most of that month had been no-contact). Kyle didn't think of Kenny to be even remotely persistent with his targets. Or was it because the target, as in Scar, seemed so easy? Kyle didn't feel offended at his own thoughts. He was putting on a seductive mask, flirting, laughing, acting— nothing was real, if there was anything such as real. The only thing that seemed to be real to Kyle now was the blankness that came when there was nothing and no one around him. Silence— that was real.

'Do you want to get dinner or something? It's a little early, but—' Kenny shrugged, and looked at Kyle questioningly.

'No. Dinner sounds good.' Kyle nodded.

'Cool. What do you feel like?'

'I don't know. Anything really. As long as it's quiet.' A new smile hinted on Kyle's mouth as his hands moved up to Kenny's neck to pull down the blond's ear closer to his lips. 'Somewhere secluded. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere where no one would notice us…'

A deep shiver shocked Kenny's legs and stomach at those words and touch: the sensation.

'I know a perfect place.'

They walked through the darkening alleys and roads, lit only by the dim sky and the flickering streetlamps on the side. The darkness continued until they reached a wider street, quiet still, but warmer and welcoming with a small restaurant glowing in the middle of the block.

'Nice, huh?' Kenny grinned, eyes twinkling as he opened the glass door for Kyle. And no, it wasn't so bad.

There were not too many people to make a conversation impossible, but not too few to dampen the mood of the restaurant. The hostess was friendly and quick enough to seat the two and Kyle immediately noticed the reasonable price of the meals on the menu when opened. The lights were dim, setting the mood with the small candle in the centre of the table. Nice décor, nice price, nice hospitality… the only problem was the mood and atmosphere.

Kyle glanced up from his menu to eye the blond, who happened to look up at the same time and caught the emerald greens in his own icy blues. Yes, the mood and atmosphere was definitely too… _romantic_, for Kyle's liking. Sex, was fine, it didn't require much commitment, thoughts, feelings, not much at all, just follow the rule book everyone was the same. But romance? What was that? It required emotion, didn't it? Something, which Kyle lacked, stripped himself of until it did not exist anymore. So the atmosphere… it was uncomfortable.

'Margherita,' Kyle burst out before Kenny could open his mouth as their eyes were still connected, 'I'll have the margherita. What are you having?'

'Er…' Kenny stumbled through the menu, finally releasing Kyle's gaze, 'I'll have the lasagne then.'

Kyle sipped loudly on his arrived cranberry juice, ignoring the blond's observing gaze digging into him as he drank his beer. He noticed his own cooled attitude, out of character maybe for the flirtatious "Scar", but Kyle couldn't help himself. He was _feeling_ uncomfortable, and needed a distraction, and for now the bittersweet taste of the cranberry numbing his tongue and the loud sipping and clinging of ice had to do.

But that all stopped as the subtle ringing of a small bell entered his ears. His tongue, his mouth, his throat froze, and all his senses were focused on his ears as he listened to the restaurant door slowly shut behind the new customer. But he dared not to look up.

'Good evening sir, how many of you will be dining with us today?'

'Oh, just one, thanks,'

'Okay, please,' the hostess probably raised her arm to direct the way to the table, Kyle thought, but then there was a sudden pause on the way, and the redhead felt a sudden chill on his back crawling up his neck.

'Actually, could I take the seat just right there?'

'Of course,' the hostess replied brightly.

He heard the footsteps, and Kyle listened to them intently. Slowly, they were coming this way, to the table behind him, Kyle measured.

His nose wiggled slightly as he felt the new customer brush against his chair as he sat behind him. He could smell it. The stench. Behind the odour of cheap deodorant Kyle could smell who he really was, and instantly he itched for the knife around his ankle.

'What's wrong?' Kenny asked quietly, noticing the subtle distaste in Kyle's face.

'I need to sneeze,' Kyle replied, received a soft chuckle in reply. And it was at that second, as Kenny's eyes narrowed in laughter, as the hostess walked past their table to make her way to the kitchen, that Kyle heard the small soft sounds of the chair legs scratch against the floor behind him. He felt the heat of the body behind him move, and he consciously restrained his hand from grabbing the knife as he was hurled into the air by his neck. His chair flipped over, the table shuddered and rolled his drink down the edge, making the cranberry juice splatter against the floor with the broken glass. He watched as Kenny's eyes slowly widen in horror.

Well what are the odds of this? Kyle wondered as he chocked behind the arm restraining him against a firm body.

'Okay, nobody move!' the voice bellowed from behind. The redhead felt something cold and hard dig into his curls and press against his temple. He immediately noticed it to be the muzzle of a gun.

'Kyle!'

The redhead's eyes shot wide, and met the eyes of two icy-blue orbs staring at him, not blinking, in terror. The pink plump lips of the redhead lightly parted and his own eyes forgot to blink at the call of his real name. The blond got up to his feet without thought, but at the movement the arm around Kyle's neck tightened and the muzzle dug deeper against his head.

'I said _DON'T MOVE_!'

Kenny's body froze at the words, and at the redhead's shudder under the aggressive movements of the gun holder.

'Good,' he said as Kenny released the tension in his shoulders and leaned back out of his lunging position. The man looked across the room, still with Kyle firm in his hands. 'Now, I want you to do, exactly as I say! Where's the manager?' He shot his eyes sharply to the host standing in shock. 'Call the manager!'

The hostess squeaked in fear but rushed away in her clicking heals, obeying the order.

Kyle tensed in disgust as he waited. The man's shaking quick breaths were hot and foul against his ear and he could feel his sweat drop and sink into his curls. Stupid fucking amateur, Kyle spat in his head. He could smell his nervousness from feet away.

The hostess' nervous heals echoed through the restaurant again, followed by a more firm footsteps of a small, stern looking middle-aged woman. Her thin lips were pursed together firmly, charcoal eyes narrowed as she stared at the man with the gun.

'I am the manager,' the woman stated slowly with a thick south European accent.

'Okay,' the man's breath brushed against Kyle's hair as he spoke, 'okay, I want you to put all your money, and collect them from customers too, in my bag.' He kicked his bag placed next to his chair. 'I don't want- anything funny, or I'll blow this boy's brains out.'

The manager whispered calmly into the hostess' ear and with the squeak of a sob, the hostess trotted towards the robber, grabbed his bag with tears running down her scrunched-up face, and brought it back towards the manager. They looked similar, Kyle thought to himself, mother and daughter perhaps? Kyle wished for them to hurry up. The man was sweating more by the minute and now the smell was becoming intolerable.

The hostess trotted around the room in her heals, sobbing and asking each customer for their wallet and finally ending on Kenny who obliged without a word, not moving his gaze from Kyle, not even batting an eye.

'Throw the bag toward my feet and back off,' the man called to the crying hostess who did so swiftly. And then Kyle felt the hot breath stronger against his cheek as the man pressed his lips towards his ear. 'Yours too ginger. Slide your wallet out your pocket and drop it into the bag.'

Greedy motherfucker. Kyle did as he was told without a blink of an eye, feeling Kenny's piercing gaze on him. His slender fingers slid into his pocket and scissored his wallet to carefully pull it out, slowly rubbing his buttocks against the man's crotch behind him as he did: a distraction.

The second the man looked down at the sexual friction, Kyle dug the edge of his wallet into the man's eyeball, making him shriek in pain and let go of the redhead as a reaction. Kyle tumbled forward and was caught by the blond's firm arms, yet he did not stop to thank him. He swang his whole body around, feet secured on the floor and arm stretched to steal the gun off the robber, and then found the slaughtering device pointed straight at his heart.

'Son of a bitch—' the man spat, hand pressed against his wounded eye, and he curled his index finger around the trigger of the gun pointed at Kyle.

'NO!'

Harmonising with Kenny's cry, a brain-numbing _BANG_ tore through the room and Kyle's body was blown to the ground from the fierce impact. Blood splattered against the floor and the shooter's eyes widened in fear and shock at what he had done.

Red eyelashes parted and emerald greens appeared from behind white eyelids. For a second his vision was dark, but soon he leaned up to find an orange figure limp against his legs, the blood leaking out of him sinking into Kyle's jeans.

'I— I didn't mean—' A second gunshot interfered the robber's words, creating a hole right between his wide eyes, and the robber fell to the ground. Kyle looked up briefly from the dying man in his arms to find the middle-aged manager holding a shotgun with furious eyes, but quickly looked back down as he heard the blond choking on his own blood.

'Kenny,' Kyle whispered, carefully sliding the blond strands out of the icy-blue eyes struggling to look up at the redhead.

'Are—'

'Don't talk!' Kyle snapped quietly, lifting the bloody orange fabric to find the hole in Kenny's chest gashing out blood. Kyle's eyes widened and he slowly looked up from the oozing wound to the dying face gazing deeply into him.

'Are you okay?' he whispered softly, ignoring Kyle's order.

Without the ability to blink, Kyle slowly nodded once. The small gesture received a soft smile from Kenny, the one last movement of his, until he sank lifelessly into Kyle's frail arms. It was as if Kyle's own heart sank along with the weight of the dead body.

But why? Kyle gently rested the body on the floor and got to his feet, etching the vision of the dead body deep into his eyes. This was the plan wasn't it? To have Kenny dead by the end of the night? But then, why?

Pursing his lips, Kyle grabbed his wallet from the ground, his coat from the fallen chair, and dashed out the restaurant, ignoring all the calls after him. His mind did not give out the orders; his legs begged him for it. To run, to run mindlessly through the night, his body begged him for it. His breath and heartbeat blast through his ears, and still he ran, until his shoe caught a dent in the ground and he crashed into the asphalt underneath him.

It was as if he finally blinked for the first time, there, lying on the cold ground. He blinked, and stared at his hand lying beside his face. It was covered in blood, deep, red-black blood. It was digging into his nails, drying on his pale skin, sinking into him, the blood. Kenny's blood. The blood of the man who saved his life.

Why? Why did he save his life? They had just met, or that was meant to be the scenario. Not meant to be any lighter than a one-night stand that happened to be in a restaurant because of the nuisance at home. They were not— not—

'_Kyle!'_

Kyle gasped at the call of his name and jumped up onto his feet to swing his head around all directions of the night. But there was no one. The tension in the redhead's shoulders sank as he found that he was alone, but he quickly tensed again as he noticed the voice to be Kenny's. Kenny's call to him in the restaurant, in the danger, his real name, not Scar.

They were not meant to be close; they were meant to have just met only a couple of times before. And yet Kenny took him to a romantic restaurant. And yet Kenny called him by his unintroduced real name. And yet Kenny sacrificed his life to save Kyle's…

Kyle collapsed against the wall beside him, leaned over, and vomited onto the dark grey asphalt. Red and warm watery contents along with bits of under-chewed bread splattered in front of Kyle's feet. He spat the bitter acidy spit into the small, foul-smelling puddle steaming in the autumn cold. The deep confusion caused sickening nausea, something Kyle rarely experienced, hadn't experienced in years in fact, and it almost caused fear to stir in the emotionless redhead.

But Kenny was dead now. No matter what he thought, knew, felt, he was dead now. Wasn't that enough? Kyle sighed and spat one last time onto the ground before leaning off the wall and onto his feet. His body did not beg him to run anymore, it didn't beg for anything. He was a walking empty container, eyelids hanging low, arms and head swaying tiredly. He walked through the night without a single thought. He walked heavily as if his shadow beneath him was pulling him down to the ground.

When Kyle arrived home he couldn't sleep; his brain was too alert. He closed his bedroom door behind him and leaned against it, then slowly slid down the timber until he was on the cold floor. Why? He shook, grinding his teeth in the dark room.

Why did people keep on saving his life?

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**A.N- Thank you for reading and reviewing. The story is finally going somewhere, isn't it? You will see.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N- Sorry I didn't update last week. I just, could not bring myself to write. **

**But thank you those who reviewed and motivated me to do so this week.**

**I don't know whether this is a reward or punishment, but here's some smut.**

**And that's a warning.**

**Hope you enjoy~**

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_Chapter Six: About Last Night…_

The morning light that shone through the large window tickled Kyle's toes, making the redhead wake up to realise that he had fallen asleep against the door. He let out one long breath, and as he inhaled, all the thoughts he lost while he was asleep began to leak into his empty mind again.

'_Kyle!'_

The voice echoed in his head.

'_No!'_

Damn, fuck. He thought he had forgotten about that. He had forgotten everything that happened after that so why couldn't he have forgotten _that_? Kenny's voice, his arm that pushed him out of the way of the gunshot that fired the next moment. But everything after that was hazy, no, it was a complete blank that erupted a headache in his head when he tried to think about it. He probably hit his head on the ground when Kenny pushed him out of the way of the bullet.

Yes… Kyle slid his fingers that were tugging on his thumping head. Kenny had saved him… So he received a life in exchange of a headache, what a bargain.

But then there was that one question… Was Kenny alive? Or did he finally die yesterday, saving Kyle's life…

Kyle's body froze at the thought; he felt a cold, painful chill shoot through his body. How hypocritical… after trying to kill him so many times he felt sick at the thought that Kenny might have died saving his life? He was able to deal killing someone as a job but couldn't deal with someone dying for him personally? Or was it…

No. That, that could not be. Kyle feeling emotions? And because what, someone stupidly saved his life? A worthless life? A life that didn't exist?

Him feeling guilt for being saved?

Kyle's vibrant emerald eyes were nothing but a dim shade of green as he stared at the floor as if in denial that the ground still existed under his feet.

Please don't be dead… the prayer echoed inside Kyle's head. Don't be dead…

Kyle's eyes flung wide open as he swang his head up, showing the vibrant emeralds they usually lit up in. He took out his mobile phone and pressed the buttons frantically as he repeated those three words in his head.

Don't be dead…

Kyle prayed.

Don't be dead so I can kill you myself.

.

Kyle's breath was deep and desperate. He didn't take the bus, not being able to stand even a second of waiting still, and so he ran instead. A question he pretended to not ask himself as he ran, was: why was he acting so desperately?

The wind stopped blowing in his face and Kyle realised that his feet had reached their destination. Kyle was standing in front of Kenny's apartment, his quick breath slowly calming down as he stared at the front door. He was slow and tense as he drew his knuckles to the door, the haste he felt a second ago now climbed into its shell. But he knocked, and once was enough.

The door flew open instantly, almost hitting Kyle on the nose on the way, and revealed a shockingly flustered face frozen in mid-pant. Yet, despite that, Kyle put a smile onto his lips and opened his mouth to greet, 'Hey Ken—'

He was silenced in shock. Long arms shot at him and wrapped around his frail body hiding under his large coat, making Kyle tense every muscle in alarm.

'Oh Scar, thank god!' Kenny's soft voice entered him, and finally Kyle realised the gentleness and the warmth of the arms securing him in their hold. 'Thank god you're alright. Thank fucking god you're okay.'

The tension in Kyle's body slowly began to drift away as Kenny's words caressed him, the tension, along with the fake smile he stitched onto his mouth a moment ago. And Kyle's hands relaxed down onto the back of the man that was holding him firmly.

'You know… I should be the one saying that to you.' Kyle murmured, his words making Kenny undo his tight hold on the redhead to let him look into his face. 'I'm so glad you're alive…'

It wasn't a lie. It was the truth. Kyle was relieved from the bottom of his heart that Kenny didn't sacrifice his life to save a heartless killer. Yes, even for Kyle's "emotionless" standards that would be a little too tragic.

Kenny finally put his usual smile on his agitated lips and pulled Kyle into the house by his hand. Kyle glanced at the small connection briefly, then looked up at the back of Kenny's messy blond head with cool eyes. He hadn't counted on sharing such a thrilling experience with Kenny, a future victim, as he did the previous night. He hadn't count on Kenny developing anything _emotional_ towards him.

'Well, unlike yesterday night Stan's at school,' Kenny said, finally letting go of Kyle's hand once they climbed up the stairs and entered the living room, 'So we've got the whole house to our selves.'

Kyle twitched the edges of his mouth in a smile as he hung his baggy coat on the back of the dining chair. He knew that he should be happy with that information, but his mind was a little preoccupied to be glad about Stan's absence. The thoughts were returning, the thoughts that were whispering in his head since the previous night…

He needed answers.

'Kenny,' Kyle asked, taking a slip of the glass of water he didn't ask for, but desperately needed. 'Can we talk?'

'About last night?'

Kyle nodded, placing his cup on the dining table and leaning against the timber. Kenny blinked as he waited patiently for Kyle to continue.

'It's about the name you called me when that… Dick got me. You didn't call me by my name, you called me by something else.' His words began to speed up towards the end, but then he gulped silently before finishing, 'You called me Kyle.'

The redhead was staring straight into Kenny's icy-blue orbs, not an inch of him fidgeting from anxiety anymore.

'Kyle,' Kyle repeated, 'or something…'

Being stared by Kyle's strong emeralds, Kenny's eyes were wide and un-blinking, as if he couldn't believe Kyle's words.

'Did I?'

Kyle nodded.

'Why?' The question was simple, yet for a second Kyle doubted that he would get an answer by the way Kenny gaped, wide-eyed. That was, until Kenny released the tension in his eyes, sighed deeply, and leaned against the dining table right beside Kyle, until he opened his mouth.

'I had this friend once. A very, important friend to me, but I haven't seem him for like, seven years now. It's like he's a ghost, you know? He's been impossible to contact. My brain says that I'll probably never see him again, but deep down, I believe he isn't gone… Or maybe that's just what I want to believe.' Kenny tilted his chin to his shoulder and looked at Kyle with a weak smile. 'His name was Kyle. Kyle Broflovski.'

Kyle's heart thumped, as if in response to Kenny's call of his real name.

'And so why… Why would you call me that?'

'Because you remind me of him…' Kenny chuckled, then shock his head at his words. The deepness in Kenny's words, the emotion in his voice, and the colour of his eyes as he talked seemed to drown Kyle in their intensity. It was difficult to breathe under such unidentifiable pressure. 'I can show you, you know?'

Kenny led Kyle through the narrow corridor. There was one room to the left, two to the right, and at the end there was a window that let in the light of the dim cloudy sky. The only door to the left was where Kenny entered and closed the door behind Kyle.

'Here,' Kenny said, taking a photo frame from the window ledge at the other side of the room.

'You keep a photograph of him?' Kyle felt bewildered as he took the frame into his hands.

'Of _us_. It's a photograph of our gang in elementary.'

Four boys stared up at him from the frame, all smiling their innocent childhood smiles. They were all holding each other's shoulders. Kyle forgot when it was from, but he could tell that the children were happy, even if they were covered in snow.

Kyle remembered the photograph. He had the exact one of his own, probably still sitting on his desk at his parents' house in South Park if they had kept it. But Kyle wouldn't blame them if they hadn't; it had been years since they even contacted, and Kyle had no plans of doing so in the future.

'The one standing between Stan and me, the one with the green ushanka, is Kyle,' Kenny stated, pointing to the grinning boy wrapping his arms around the brunet and the blond. But there was no emotion as he stared into the boy's shining emerald eyes smiling in the picture. He couldn't remember who he was; he was a stranger, they all were.

Not moving his eyes from the photograph, Kyle slowly placed himself on Kenny's unmade bed, sinking into the mattress as the child continued to smile happily at him.

'He looks nothing like me…' Kyle muttered.

'Really?' Kenny took a spot beside Kyle on the bed. The redhead finally looked up from the frame to stare into Kenny's soft eyes.

'Really. And of course he doesn't…' Kyle shrugged, giving the photograph back to the blond, without looking into the questioning icy-orbs. 'We are completely different people.'

Kenny exhaled deeply as he listened to Kyle's words and looked at the boy in the photograph. And then he got up to his feet to place the photo frame back to its position on the window ledge.

'Can I ask you one last question?' Kyle asked softly as he heard the small contact of the frame to the ledge.

'Sure.'

Kenny drew back the white curtain of the window, hiding the photograph behind it as he did. The light of the cloudy sky turned a tone darker, the softness now calming Kyle's slightly quickening heart.

'Why did you save my life?' Kyle got to his feet and followed Kenny's steps to beside the window, walking straight up to the blond to stare into the widened blue eyes. 'Why would you risk yourself for me?'

With their bodies so close to touching, Kyle could hear Kenny's breath, subtly quickening along with the beat of his heart. It made his question deepen, Why risk stopping that breath for a person like Scar?

But, to Kyle's surprise, Kenny's breath calmed, bringing a warm smile along with it.

'I would risk my life for you any time, Scar.'

'Why? We only met a few times. We hardly know each other…'

'But it feels like I've known you all my life,' Kenny's long fingers brushed against Kyle's pale cheek. 'I will die a million times if it meant that I could save your life.'

The warmth. The voice. The gaze. His existence was overwhelming, but strangely it didn't crush him. It merely brushed him with the gentleness of the caressing of fingers, barely even possible to feel its touch. What gentle devastation.

Kyle's hands flowed up to Kenny's neck, thumbs softly cupping the jaw, and he carefully pulled his face down. Their lips connected. Kyle closed his eyes and kissed Kenny deeply, sharing his warmth, his touch, something he had never done before on the job, something he had never done to someone in a long time. He didn't move against Kenny's surprised lips, and it amazed the blond with how such a still kiss could be so deep.

But it ended, yet astonishingly, the sensation stayed.

'What was that for?' the blond whispered, breathless.

Kyle didn't look into Kenny's eyes that were gazing at him. His pale hand slipped away from Kenny's neck and softly grasped the fabric of his orange sweatshirt as he stared at the blond's beating chest.

'It's for saving my life.'

Kyle's voice was heavy, weighed down by the truth of his words he tasted on his tongue. But in contrast to the weight of it, his answer received a chuckle.

'God, I'd definitely risk my life again for you if I could get a kiss like that.'

To that, Kyle chuckled as well, one quiet sound that could barely reach one's ear, and shook his head, lips returning back to a frown.

'Don't ever do it again.'

Kyle finally looked up and met Kenny's eyes. His flirtatious smile of Scar was gone, and what existed was the truth that he always hid: abysmal darkness, a bottomless pit. Kenny could not see the emptiness in Kyle's eyes, not like what the redhead saw in the mirror. What he saw instead was the ocean, a wide, beautiful, undiscovered ocean.

Fingers slid behind Kyle's neck and broke the eye contact between the blond and the redhead. The next second, Kyle's unsuspected lips were sealed with Kenny's. It wasn't a kiss like before, not just a gentle, yet deep connection, but it was heat, it was desire. Kenny moved against Kyle's lips, wanting to discover more of the redhead in front of him. He drew out his tongue and licked the tips of Kyle's lips for approval, and slowly, as reality began to settle in, Kyle obliged and opened his mouth.

The heat… Kenny's tongue burned against Kyle's, almost uncomfortably so as Kenny fought for dominance inside Kyle's mouth. Kyle fought back, grasping the chest of Kenny's shirt to push him back and trap him against the wall. But before Kyle could claim victory, the redhead was pushed backward himself, fingers slipping out of their dominant grip on Kenny as he fell back into the bed behind him. The blankets puffed up into the air, catching Kyle in their soft arms, only dying too quickly as the mattress squeaked under the sound of Kenny's weight joining in.

Their lips met again on the bed, only briefly before Kenny trailed down away from Kyle's mouth and up his jaw to nibble on his ear. A surprising shudder shot through Kyle's unsuspected body, making his muscles tense as Kenny's tongue travelled down again on his thin neck. The blond chuckled softly on Kyle's skin as he noticed the tension in the redhead's body desperately keeping the man silent of any embarrassing voices hiding behind his pursed lips. With a grin, staring at Kyle's closed eyes, Kenny slid his hand underneath the baggy shirt and pinched the pink skin perked on Kyle's chest. An uncontrollable gasp of pain escaped Kyle's mouth, but relaxed into a breath of pleasure as Kenny continued to caress him gently.

'Take your clothes off,' Kenny whispered and rubbed his clothed crotch against Kyle's hip once.

Emerald eyes opened, and then thinned coldly. So this was it. This was the moment Kyle always waited for, the moment when he could bare himself and finish the job. Slit the victim and catch their blood on his naked body and then wash it all away…

Kyle's hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled the fabric off his head, making his red curls bounce as he flung it away. Kenny smiled and watched, hands automatically taking off Kyle's boots and socks as assistance to Kyle's stripping. The skin revealed on Kyle's chest and stomach was even whiter and smoother than he had imagined, tightly wrapped around the fragile construction of the shoulders, chest, ribs, stomach… every inch shown. But his staring eyes finally blinked as the sound of the zipper being pulled down entered his ears. The second sock slipped off of Kyle's foot and Kyle carefully raised his hips into the air to pull the hard jeans off his slender hips, down his thighs and kicking it off his ankles to let it fall to the ground.

There was no sign of a burn or a scar on Kyle's right thigh, all healed back to a skin of pearly white. Kenny let out a small breath of relief and kissed the spot treated a month ago, drawing out his tongue to taste the healthy, creamy skin. It made the similar sensation he felt then, when Kenny attended his burn, back to Kyle: a sense of humiliation and strange embarrassment that tinged his cheeks with subtle warmth. He wanted to push Kenny off of him and run out the house without even finishing the job. But why?

A small chuckle interfered with Kyle's thoughts, and he looked down to find Kenny grinning up at him from between his legs. A single finger along the mild erection in Kyle's underwear. It made the redhead hiccough and the blond's grin widen at Kyle's response.

'That's better.' He tugged softly at Kyle's underwear and slid the fabric down his buttocks and hardened erection, making Kyle twitch as his underwear joined his clothes on the ground.

Kyle was bare, every inch of his skin now exposed to Kenny as if food on a plate. It was the state Kyle always waited for, the moment he could slit his victim's throat without staining himself with their blood.

'Kenny,' Kyle called softly. The blond pushed himself up from Kyle and looked down at the un-smiling redhead. His icy-blue orbs widened slightly as Kyle raised his hands and wrapped his thin fingers around Kenny's neck and stared with his emerald eyes as if for the last time. It quickened Kenny's breath and deepened his heartbeat as he waited for what came next— 'I want you…'

Kenny's widened eyes froze in surprise at the redhead's soft words. The fingers around his neck tightened slowly and Kyle pulled Kenny's frozen face to his.

'I want you, Kenny.'

Kyle had never said such a thing before, especially on the job. He put himself in positions of selling his body in order to make his victim vulnerable, but he had never let the opponent go deeper than necessary. He had never let them fuck him, always finishing the job a moment before they prepared to push into him. But today was different, as Kyle was willing to give himself whole to the blond above him.

Kenny was special…

'Really?' The blond whispered back. Kyle nodded.

Kenny had saved Kyle's life.

Kyle released Kenny's neck and grasped at the hem of his orange sweatshirt to pull it off his head, quickly followed by the grey t-shirt underneath, which was thrown to the floor. Kenny was not as scrawny as Kyle imagined, not like him. He wasn't strongly built, but his muscles were toned enough to think that he looked more comfortable than Kyle's bony frame. But Kyle instantly stopped trailing his eyes through Kenny's torso and froze on his chest.

'What's that?' he asked, sliding his finger along Kenny's mid chest. It seemed like a cut, still new, carved into his skin with a thin blade. 'A number?'

Kenny nodded, 'A number…'

It looked like the number six, but Kyle didn't ask to confirm and neither did he ask its meaning. He simply licked the number, tasting the raw torn skin, and he thought he could even feel Kenny's heart beating underneath it on his tongue.

Kenny shivered as he watched Kyle's red tongue and lips caress his chest, and his hands moved to the front of his jeans. The redhead didn't look even as he heard Kenny pull his zipper down, but he bent his leg and rubbed it against Kenny's naked thigh, still nipping at his chest as he did. He only stopped, reluctantly, when Kenny leaned away from him to reach under the bed and returned with lube.

They kissed deeply, eyes closed as they focused on the heat and feel. Kyle flung his arms around the blond's back, digging his fingers and nails into the skin and tensing muscle as Kenny prepared Kyle's entrance. Kyle gasped and bit on Kenny's lips as his body shook with each stretch, and then their mouths finally released and gasped for air when Kenny thought he prepared Kyle enough.

'Are you ready?' Kenny whispered, watching as Kyle slowly opened his eyes. Kyle didn't answer in words. He simply stared straight into Kenny's eyes, and then leaned up to lick his lips.

Kenny smiled, then grasped Kyle's knees and leaned in, kissing Kyle on the lips as he entered him. Kyle tensed and let out a short groan as Kenny drew out and thrust in again, and again, making the mattress cry underneath them with each thrust. But Kenny was careful, he wasn't demanding with his movements, which Kyle thought almost foreign with sex. He moved with desire, but not losing Kyle on the way, making sure he shared the pleasure and didn't dominate.

A high moan drowned under a fierce gasp escaped Kyle's mouth and Kenny smiled victoriously as he pushed deeper into Kyle with quickening thrusts. Kyle cried and shuddered with every small friction inside him, feeling Kenny massage his prostate with his cock. The redhead grasped at his own erection and began pumping furiously, unable to hold it in anymore. And Kenny was also coming close. His movements continued to quicken and strengthen as he began to lose himself, wanting to dig deeper and deeper. He heard a breathless cry underneath him and felt cum spit at his chest and fall onto Kyle's shuddering stomach with his white skin flushed blood red. The sight itself was intoxicating, and the next moment Kenny groaned as he released inside the shuddering redhead.

It was messy, Kyle thought through desperate breaths, and he was glad he was naked. But instead of catching blood on his state of birth, he caught cum on his skin. He closed his eyes and listened to his breath and heartbeat, listened to how much he sounded alive, and felt lips press onto his own. Kyle opened his eyes as the lips left and was replaced with a quiet chuckle.

'I don't want to get out of you,' Kenny laughed weakly under his panting breath.

'You better,' Kyle groaned as he leaned up and pulled away from Kenny. Kenny's usual smile tinted his lips and he dropped his back onto the mattress. 'I'm gonna use your bathroom,' Kyle stated as he picked up his clothes and moved out the room. Kenny watched through the corner of his eye as Kyle disappeared behind the door and then let out a deep sigh.

Kyle took his time in the shower, mostly standing there blankly with his eyes to the ground, catching the warm droplets in his hair. There was not a thought in his head, except for the one desire that he wanted to stay in the shower forever.

When Kyle returned back to Kenny's room he found the blond back in his jeans, still lying on the bed.

'Hey, nice shower?'

Kyle froze at the doorway, then nodded once in response, but didn't move forward after that. He felt Kenny's questioning gaze on his still frame and his thoughts finally began to consolidate into one reality.

Kenny was still alive.

He wasn't meant to be.

Kenny's confused eyes slightly widened when Kyle finally moved towards him and rested his pale fingers on his clothed knee.

'Can I get you a drink?' Kyle asked with a smile. He felt the tension in Kenny's body flow away through the hand on his knee.

'That would be great,' was the reply. 'There's some soda in the fridge. Can you get me a glass of that?'

The living room was as clean as Kyle left it a month ago, left with a sense of plain emptiness to it. The window had continued to darken and Kyle thought of it to start raining any time soon. He crossed to the fridge and took out a can of cola, then grabbed a glass drying on the rack beside the sink.

Kyle had forgotten his small hunting knife. It was lying on his bedroom floor where he took it off, but he had forgotten it that morning, mind too preoccupied, too desperate as he rushed to Kenny's apartment. The only thing he had, was the small pill case still in the pocket of his coat.

Eyes staring at the cool cup of bubbling cola, Kyle took out the case and dropped a pill into his hand. He broke the pill and poured the powder into the half-filled can and took the glass for himself. He didn't feel sorry, he never did. He didn't feel anything.

'Thanks,' Kenny grinned as he took the can from Kyle's hand. For a second he thought he saw Kyle twitch, but he dismissed it and moved over to give Kyle some room next to him on the bed. He smiled as Kyle pressed against him on the under-sized bed and took a sip of his drink.

'Urgh. I hate cola,' Kyle spat, making Kenny chuckle. But the redhead continued to drink his soft drink and Kenny watched with a small smile.

'Hey, can I hold your hand?'

Kyle almost choked on his drink, and he flung his head up to glare embarrassingly at the joking blond, to find out that he wasn't joking at all. There was a smile on his lips, but it was small and coated with the slight hint of hope. His palm was waiting in the air. Kyle stared at it tensely, then slowly drew his hand over it and pressed their skins together with pursed lips.

'Thanks,' Kenny's smile widened before he took the can to his lips and gulped down the drink. He didn't say any more as he drank, and even after, leaving the one word echoing in Kyle's head as Kenny's eyes closed and his hand dropped lifelessly in Kyle's hold.

Kyle felt the life leak out of Kenny, as if being sucked into his hand to enter deep inside him.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven: To Knead a Heart_

Kyle's hollow emeralds stared into the old stains of his blank ceiling. His lips were lightly parted, letting a ghost of air caress his mouth and accentuate the bitter taste of death on his tongue.

There was no memory of Kenny's death in Kyle's head; the only memory that existed was the time they spent together. The memory came with a strange mixture of blank despair and longing. Longing for what? Kyle was not sure, but he felt himself drawn towards the feeling, and every time he became conscious of it his emotionless face would strain in horror, and the urge to throw his fist through the wall would burn inside him. It was horrible, disgusting, horrifying even, to have such a strong emotion simmering inside. For an unconscious, instinctual moment, Kyle thought of death, and the comfortable sense of nothingness returned to him. He looked at his still fingers: they were long and thin, and the skin, white.

There was a strong sensation that pulsed in his palm and fingers, it was clear, yet strangely ungraspable. It burned and pumped. There was a subtle warmth alive in his hand, but when he blinked to try to grasp it, it let out one last spark before disappearing into thin air. The sensation was replaced with a sudden groundbreaking vibration.

His phone.

Kenny was still alive.

Why? Fingers tensed around the phone, teeth gritted and gums throbbed. Kyle's eyes exploded with colour of hatred, glimmering as he rose to his knees and flung his hand back with his phone in it. He glared at the wall opposite him, seeing his phone crash against it and shutter into a lifeless electrical corpse. But his arm was still behind him, his hand shaking as it kept the phone in its hold. A burning minute past, and slowly, a heavy breath leaked out of Kyle along with the tension in his muscles, bringing his hands lifelessly to the ground.

Why? Why was Kenny still alive? …No. Why hadn't Kyle killed him yet?

A couple of days ago Kyle had let Kenny have him in order to return the price of being saved, just once, before killing him. But Kyle didn't kill him, even after giving his body to Kenny. Instead he had come home to an empty house and spent two days on the floor of his bedroom not even noticing the time go by. Not until his phone rung in his hand.

A small moan leaked out of Kyle as he arched his back and pressed his forehead to the ground.

Kyle had let Kenny have him, and after that, Kyle had let Kenny live.

'Maybe I'm going crazy…' Kyle's voice whispered. His forehead parted from the floor to let his eyes see his phone still trapped in his hand. The phone flicked open and Kyle read the message that was inside.

"_Come to my place, I'll teach you how to make the bread I gave you the other day."_

The memory of warmth and taste exploded in Kyle's mouth, shocking his mind awake.

Alone in the flat, there was no one to remind Kyle of the necessity to eat or communicate for two days straight, and he had finally noticed the craving that had reached the centre of his bones. He was hungry.

"_I'll be there."_

Kyle's hands and legs shook as he took a shower and clothed himself, not being able to stand the pressure of his own weight as he became a person.

.

Kyle didn't put a fake smile on his lips as he waited at Kenny's door; he didn't have the energy to. Standing up on his two skinny feet and keeping his eyes open, trying not to wobble powerlessly around, was difficult enough.

When the door opened and Kenny found Kyle standing quietly with a delicate atmosphere wrapped around him, he felt himself still, before being able to release the tension in his body and put on a smile.

'You look horrible.'

Kyle smiled with his lips and lied weakly, 'I didn't sleep last night.'

Kenny's steps were light and quick up the stairs, making Kyle notice the heavy, slow thuds of his own as he followed. The small apartment was quiet and still, airy, as it was kept neat. Entering it somehow felt like a new experience, as if he had come here for the first time.

'I'll just rush out to the shops. I hardly ever make bread here so there are no ingredients. Do you wanna come with?' The keys rang in the air and fell back on Kenny's hand as the blond asked the quiet redhead.

'No I'll— I'll wait here.'

Kenny nodded with a small smile and put his keys on the kitchen table, but a thin hand stopped him from drawing back.

'Could we—' Kyle paused to tense his lips before continuing, 'Could we make a loaf?'

Kenny blinked at the favour, 'Sure, but it'll take longer.' For a second, Kenny thought he felt Kyle's hand tense on his.

'That's fine.'

A bright smile grew on Kenny's lips. He flipped his hand over and squeezed Kyle's hand before stepping away to the stairs.

'I'll be right back!'

The shiny words echoed in Kyle's ears as he watched Kenny rush out the room. He didn't know why he preferred to make a loaf instead of small butter rolls. He didn't know why he didn't put on his fake smile and fake seduction as he did. Instead he showed his true emptiness and silence. He had no energy to fake.

With shaking fingers Kyle undid his shoelaces and slipped his feet out of their shoes and socks. He felt the cold wooden floorboards on his skin and took his steps out the room. When the footsteps stopped, Kyle was leaning against the doorframe of Kenny's bedroom, moving his dim eyes from the unmade bed to the photo frame resting beside the window. The window was closed, leaving the air still and heavy, hard to breathe and move through. The silence of the apartment rang in Kyle's ears, but it stopped as a distant bang of the door announced Kenny's return.

'We only really need these two ingredients,' Kenny took yeast and flour out of his shopping bag, 'well, and water and salt, but we have that.' He moved around the kitchen so freely and smoothly as if it was so easy. Kyle saw the air around him to be light and kind, unlike the air that weighed down on his shoulders and knees. The steel bowl sang as Kenny put it on the table. 'Go ahead and wash your hands.'

When Kyle entered the bathroom he immediately found his face staring back at him, a horrible face, hungry, tired, even freezing, as his lips did not possess its usual red. He hands looked porcelain under the water, but unlike his skin, the sink was old and chapped, even stained with a few drops of dry blood.

'Kenny, you should clean your bathroom. It's not a very hygienic place.' Kenny glanced at Kyle with a confused look as he flicked a few droplets away from his fingers into the kitchen sink. 'At least wash away the blood…'

Kyle sensed a tension in Kenny lips as he answered, 'Oh yeah, um, that— sorry about that. Yeah, I'll be careful.'

Letting the conversation slide away from his mind, Kyle swam through the air and moved around the table, staring at the ingredients waiting for them.

'It's strange to think that these would turn into food.'

'It's like magic isn't it?' Kenny chuckled, 'Speaking of food, you look hungry. Have you had lunch?'

'No…'

'Really? Do you want something? It's already past two.'

'No, I'm fine.' Kyle licked the flour off his finger once he opened the new packet. 'How much do we need of this?'

'Six and a half cups. But first, the water. Three cups.' Kenny poured the heated water into the bowl. 'It shouldn't be too hot; maybe about human temperature. Here, feel it, tell me if you think it's good.'

Kyle's reflection stared up at him, but it dissolved into ripples as Kyle dipped his hand into the water.

'It's not warm.' Kyle shrugged. 'It's cold.'

'Really?' Kenny's hand quickly joined in the water with Kyle's. 'No, that's warm. It's good—' But Kenny's words paused as his hand was captured by Kyle's in the water.

'You're warmer.' The green eyes that seemed so dim that day, shone vibrantly as they stared into Kenny's widening blues. 'You're getting even warmer.'

'…No, the water is a little warmer…'

Kenny felt like sighing as his hand was finally released, realising that he had stopped breathing.

'Once the water starts bubbling with the salt and yeast, you put the flour in. Careful this time,' Kenny chuckled as he watched Kyle's serious face concentrate on the bubbling water. There were dusts of flour on his cheek from when he aggressively poured the flour into the measuring cup, making Kenny grin every time he looked at Kyle.

'What next?' Kyle said through non-smiling lips, catching Kenny's grin by the throat.

'Oh yeah, um, we mix it until we get a loose, sticky dough—'

Kenny watched as Kyle began before he could finish his sentence. How his emerald eyes stayed glued to the dough, how his mouth opened slightly, and closed with each time he tensed his fingers and stirred the mixture. Somehow, Kenny thought that disrupting the redhead's concentration would break his whole world.

'Now what?' Kyle asked as Kenny flipped a tablecloth over the dough in the steel bowl.

'Now we wait for it to rise.'

'How long will that take?' Kyle watched Kenny place the steel bowl by the window to let it catch the light.

'Maybe a couple of hours… But then we should put it in the fridge, preferably overnight.' Kenny caught Kyle's shoulders slightly fall and smiled softly. 'There's not much more to do now but wait. Do you wanna go home and come back tomorrow? I'll have the dough ready by then.'

'No—' Kyle paused at his own instant answer, 'No, I'll stay. I want to see it rise.'

Nodding, Kenny went back to the kitchen table to clean up all the ingredients. Every second he would look up to glance at Kyle still looking at the lightened bowl, and go back to cleaning without a word. All cleaned up, Kenny returned back beside Kyle silently, but without receiving a response, he fell back into the couch with a sigh.

'Oh, I forgot! Aren't you hungry Scar? You said you didn't have lunch.'

'I'm not hungry…'

'Yeah, but dude, it's already three. And I feel bad letting a skinny thing like you without food—' Kenny's mouth was sealed, trapping his words inside as two fingers pressed into his lips.

'I said I'm not hungry.'

Lost in the shining eyes staring down at him, Kenny forgot the words that were silenced and stayed frozen, until he noticed the fingers on his lips and took them in his own hand with a smile.

'The dough's dried on your fingers.' He laughed quietly and took the dough-coated fingers into his mouth, making Kyle jolt at the sudden sensation. Kenny's saliva coated the hardened dough, softening it slightly, before his teeth dug in and ripped the dough off Kyle's skin piece by piece. Kyle's frozen eyes took in the vision of Kenny cleaning his fingers so intently, astound by the sensation of feeling his hand be cleansed. Kyle felt his fingers as clean as new and Kenny finally drew them out of his mouth, leaving one last kiss on his palm. Blue eyes looked up, and smiled with a ghost of cordiality.

Without a single word or thought, Kyle's hand slipped out of Kenny's to press down on the blond's shoulder before the redhead leaned down and met Kenny's lips with his own.

.

'Won't your friend get mad if he finds out we had sex on the couch?'

'He would. Definitely. That's why he shouldn't know.' Kenny chuckled, playing with the fingers of Kyle's left hand entwined with his own. They paused as Kyle's fingers tensed around his, and slowly, Kyle leaned in to press his lips on the number five carved into Kenny's chest. But Kyle instantly stopped with Kenny's words, 'The dough should be ready soon.'

Kyle jumped off of Kenny, forgetting to readjust his clothes as he hopped to the window to check the dough.

'Wow… It doubled in size at least.'

'Yeah, that looks good. Now we can put it in the fridge to make it even better by tomorrow.'

Tomorrow— the word made Kyle forget his breathing for a short second. It was strange, Kyle never thought of tomorrow, but then he realised, he never thought of anything. The redhead turned to stare into Kenny with transparent eyes.

'I'll be back tomorrow then.'

A ghost of a chuckle, like a smile mixed with a sigh, escaped Kenny's mouth as he nodded happily.

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

.

When Kyle returned back to his old apartment at the end of town he was welcomed back by a light slap on the nose.

'What are you grinning at?'

Kyle blinked, freezing at the doorway as he stared at the blond sitting in his usual office chair.

'You're back.' Kyle's body finally regained control and he slammed the door behind him. 'And I'm not grinning.'

'Yes you are. Inside.' Gregory chuckled.

A hint of colour lit Kyle's cheeks, but without saying anything he went to his room where he could wait alone for tomorrow to come. He could already smell the freshly baked bread; he could see the golden crust cracked beautifully and fuming.

'_Wow_,' the bread would be sliced to show its soft, fluffy inside, '_It looks delicious..._'

Kyle was hungry, and for the first time he realised for it to be such a nice feeling.

The next day when Kyle returned to Kenny's house he found his dream punched right in the face. When Kyle pulled the baked loaf out of the oven he found it not as risen as he hoped, the crust not gold but a muddy brown and the insides more like a mush of soft cement.

'Wow' Kenny chuckled. 'It looks delicious.'

'Don't fucking lie, it looks shit.'

'Not too bad for your first time!' The bread was cut into fresh slices for sandwiches, the non-tempting bread somehow making Kyle drool at the sight. Cheese, ham and lettuce were folded inside, presented to Kyle on a plate with Kenny's gentle smile. 'You'll just have to practice.'

Kyle suddenly didn't feel hungry any more. He took his first bite and as expected, the bread didn't melt in his mouth, so Kyle had to chew patiently and persistently until he could finally swallow it down and send his first meal in days into his stomach. In no time Kyle finished his third sandwich, managing to finish half the loaf to himself in one sitting. Kenny, long since finished his sandwich, grinned as he watched Kyle finally draw away from his plate.

'You're right… I really need more practice.'

But what was this? Kyle had just finished three sandwiches, enough to normally burst his small belly. But Kyle felt empty and hollow, his mind clearing to let through the one irrefutable fact: that he had to kill Kenny. But there was one other thing that was floating inside Kyle, much more dim: a distant smell beyond thick, dark smoke.

What was this?

Under the table Kyle reached down until his right hand gripped the knife wrapped around his ankle. Silently, he freed his blade and stood up onto his feet. He had the energy now, but his body still felt weak, uncontrollable; his limbs were still subtly shaking under his weight.

What was this deep inside him?

'Scar?' Kenny's eyes widened as he watched Kyle draw towards him, letting his blue irises catch the shining blade in Kyle's hand. 'Scar! What—'

But Kyle's left hand shot at Kenny's mouth to silence his shaking words. His blue eyes were wide and quivering, and they did not blink.

Kyle noticed what was deep inside him.

Green eyes looked up, glistening emerald through scarlet hair. And Kenny's blue eyes ceased their shaking. 'I'm sorry.'

It was a feeling.

Was it always so difficult to take someone's life? The skin, the muscle, the fat, all the tissues of his chest seemed like an invincible wall between Kyle's blade and Kenny's heart. Pulling it out was just as hard. The cleanup and fleeing was just as hard.

The smell was overwhelming; it made bubbles blur Kyle's mind and darken his sight. He had forgotten the smell of blood for a very long time, and to think that now he had remembered it. His legs got caught in the air between the stone pavement and for a second his world twirled.

The sky was tall and blue that day. Kyle reached, wanting to catch the clouds.

.

I killed him, I killed Kenny. Gregory didn't smile at the small announcement; he didn't even look up from his paperwork. 'Alright,' he said and stamped Kenny's new photograph with a red label. Kyle watched the word "deceased" being inked onto Kenny's bright smile with a blank mind, only, it wasn't the usual comfortable silence that occupied his head, but more of a chorus of whispers, a mind-numbing noise was thumping in his brain.

'Wait,' Gregory called as Kyle rested his palm on his bedroom doorhandle. 'Do you want this?'

It was a photograph, the same picture of Kenny smiling with the word "deceased" stamped across it. It was the previous photo that was used until Kyle admitted that Kenny was still alive. Without a word, Kyle took it, and disappeared into his room.

Christophe had still not come back, and for once, Kyle wished for him to be there with him in his bed, and grab him unkindly. He wanted to be abused, even, to be torn from head to toe, to hurt physically so much that he couldn't even think. The blond in the photograph laughed without knowing his own terrible fate. Christophe was wrong; death could be sinful.

.

It was ironic that Kyle slept the most he had in days. He slept for almost twenty hours in total with small breaths of consciousness every few hours. It was funny, although Kyle didn't laugh, that he found a small sandwich beside his bed when he woke up. He hated to think that it was from Gregory, but who else would it have been? Kyle ate it slowly, as if crumb-by-crumb. It tasted like ash on his tongue, but it was gone by the morning after his long sleep.

Kyle stared at his phone not knowing why, and then noticed that he was staring at the photograph underneath it. The morning light slowly drew in through the window and made the screen of his phone glow, but Kyle wrinkled his face at the artificiality of the glow, until he noticed that it wasn't the morning light, but the screen itself that was glowing from a call. A loud ring rang in Kyle's ears and the redhead grabbed his phone and answered it.

'Hello?' Kyle gasped, 'Hello!'

'Hey Scar it's me. Kenny.'

_Kenny... _

The phone in Kyle's hand slowly drew down from his ear. There was a confused 'Hello?' calling from the speaker but it didn't reach Kyle. The redhead had bolted, ignoring Gregory lifting an eyebrow at his sudden energy and rushed down the stairs and entered the bathroom where his feet came to a sudden halt. The phone slowly returned to Kyle's ear as the redhead stared ahead.

'Hey. I'm here.'

'Oh, good. Thought I lost you for a second there dude. What happened?'

'Nothing. Everything's fine.'

'Oh. Okay. Hey, I was just wondering that maybe you'd want to come over and practice making bread again. I'll teach you how to make those butter rolls this time.'

'…Sure' Kyle's left hand rose up carefully and brushed the surface of the mirror in front of him. 'I'll be there.'

It was such a slight difference, something a normal person could not possibly notice. But Kyle could. He felt it, and now in the mirror he could see. There was a small smile on Kyle's face, a small light lit in his eyes.

.

'Why does bread rise?' Kyle asked as he watched the steel bowl covered with a tea towel.

'Jesus— really?'

'Really. I want to know.'

Kenny let out a breath, but he didn't mind it. He liked the quiet atmosphere around them as they both stared at the bowl.

'Well… Okay, so, when the yeast responds to the warm water these little cells come to life, right? And then they begin to feed on the sugars in the flour. And then the yeast kind of, dies after— you're not listening to a word I'm saying are you?'

'Huh?'

Kenny turned his eyes from the bowl to Kyle, chuckling softly. 'You forgot to take your bread home the other day.' That sentence definitely reached Kyle, making the redhead twitch unconsciously. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing, it's just— I don't want it. It sucked.'

'It didn't suck! For your first time, you did better than me! The chefs at work said I had the hands of a women 'cause I'm a good baker, but you're even better! Super woman hands!'

'Am I supposed to laugh there?'

Kenny shrugged sheepishly at Kyle's annoyed glance.

'If you want to.'

An hour later the oven door closed and a happy sigh leaked out of Kenny as Kyle watched the rolled dough eagerly.

'That'll probably take just above ten minutes.' Kenny clapped his hands. 'We should probably clean up then.'

Kyle nodded as he moved towards the messy table. The flour, salt and sugar all went together in the far right cupboard. The salt went in first, and then the sugar, then lastly—

'Scar, look! The rolls look perfect!'

'Huh?'

The next second Kyle was drenched from head to toe. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't see; he was covered with a thick layer of the flour that had slipped off the shelf.

'Shit!' Kyle groaned and rubbed at his face. The shower wasn't instant magic, making the flour into sticky glue that only slowly ran down his skin. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, Kyle reached out aimlessly.

'Soap,' he chanted as his hand flicked around. 'Soap. Soap, soap, soap, soap, soap, soap— fucking hell!'

Kyle rubbed his eyes open with frustration to find that there wasn't any soap at all. Groaning, Kyle jumped out of the shower, sinking the water on his feet into the towel on the floor before wondering out the bathroom completely naked.

When Kyle took his first foot into the corridor, he noticed that the timber floor had dyed into a glowing orange. Before his knowing it, the sky outside had turned from a smoky blue to a sun-setting red. But letting out a small sneeze, Kyle noticed his situation and walked towards the living room ahead.

'Kenny, you don't have any soa—'

Kyle's feet stopped; his whole body froze as his eyes began to widen. The man standing ahead was not a blond, but a brunet with his dark hair burning with the colours of the setting sun. His eyes were even wider than Kyle's as they stared at the naked redhead, bewildered, in shock. Kyle was the first to return back to reality. His widening eyes thinned in an instant to glare at Kenny's roommate before he walked past him without a word.

'Kenny you don't have any soap,' Kyle completed his sentence as he entered the kitchen. Unlike the brunet that had just come home, Kenny jumped almost comically at Kyle's state.

'Dude, you're naked!'

'I know. I'm having a shower.'

'And Stan's home,' Kenny whispered.

'I know, I just past him.'

'… And dude, you're drenched!'

'I know. I'm sorry… But there's no soap.'

'Oh yeah, sorry, it's under the bathroom sink,' Kenny gestured towards the corridor, meeting eyes with Stan, who was staring their way, still bewildered.

'Thanks.'

Still without a word, without even giving a glance this time, Kyle past Stan and walked back to the bathroom. As he turned the taps back on with a new bar of soap, he thought he heard the front door slam shut, and guessed that Stan had left. Good.

All clean and refreshed, thanks to his new bar of soap, when Kyle returned to the kitchen (fully clothed in Kenny's clothes this time), he found the dozen of butter rolls cooling on the dining table.

'…Are you hungry?' Kenny asked with a bright smile.

'Maybe.'

'Don't tell me you haven't eaten lunch again.'

'Okay. I won't.'

Watching Kyle's expressionless face as if uninterested in his own body's starving state, Kenny sighed heavily, and then moved to the fridge.

'Let's cut up some ham and lettuce to put in the butter rolls,' Kenny said, taking the ingredients from the fridge.

'I'll cut it.'

The ingredients were placed onto the table as Kyle took out a chopping board, but as his hand reached out to slide out a kitchen knife, he paused. A sudden pulse echoed in his ear and Kyle noticed one great mistake. Carefully, Kyle's hand gripped the knife and he turned.

Emerald eyes speared through Kenny's back. His breaths and his movements did not make a sound, but the knife cried as it glimmered dimly under the light. Kenny was meant to be dead. Kenny was meant to be dead. Kenny was— deceased…

But Kenny was alive, here, in front of him. He was alive teaching him how to make food, and bread, the most ancient of that.

'You know,' Kenny's voice called Kyle out of his thoughts, still with his back to him as he placed the cooled bread from the tray to a bowl. 'There's a foreign saying: to eat is to live. How true is that?' He chuckled softly, and then noticing the silence, he turned back to find Kyle standing there, eyes wide with his knife in hand, but with all the power drained out of his body. 'Are you okay?'

'Huh?' Kyle jolted, finally noticing the unconscious state his body was in for that second. His eyes caught the knife in his tight grip, and in there, the reflection of his eyes.

'What's wrong?'

'…No. Nothing. It's just—' Kyle rose the knife, pointing the blade long and straight at Kenny's chest. 'I think the knife's a bit blunt.'

Kenny smiled, and reached to take the knife into his own hand. From the knife stand, he grabbed a knife sharpener and started sliding the blade along it rhythmically. It was quick, and then Kenny moved to the chopping board, securing the ham against it.

The knife elegantly sliced through the meat, beautifully thin layer by layer, and Kyle silently watched Kenny move. Such clean movements, such care and passion put into every slice. Kyle saw in Kenny's movements, almost a sense of sanctity, and then found the devastation it brought to him.

This person would have never used a knife like Kyle had. He would have never used it to slice up a human being, to kill, to hurt… He would have never— like him… Kyle saw who he was, so far a being from this beautifully gentle person standing beside him. This person lived and created the world, while Kyle was dead and destroyed it.

He wanted to fall to the ground, fall— and never get up.

.

Kyle ran with everything he had, burning all the energy the butter rolls gave him in order to move his legs. In his hand was a small paper bag filled with three butter rolls, dancing around with every step Kyle took.

The small apartment almost shook as Kyle jumped up the stairs, and then with one last _slam_, he finally stopped. With heavy breaths, he looked at Gregory staring at him with surprise.

'I can't kill him…' Kyle breathed, his hold tightening around the hem of the paper bag. 'I can't kill Kenny!'

* * *

**A.N- You see the double meaning of the chapter title there? (wink, wink)**

**Sorry. I'm in a good mood tonight.**

**And I finally have the (lead up to the) end of the story all planned out. Exciting.**

**Thank you for reading. Please leave a word or two if you like it!**


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight: Innocence and Ignorance_

Gregory's ocean-like eyes widened as Kyle carefully parted his lips.

'I can't kill him—I can't kill Kenny…'

Taking in Kyle's words deep into his head, Gregory loosened the tension in his eyes and closed his lightly opened mouth into a firm line.

'I thought you said you killed him the other day.'

'I know! I did! I thought I did! I thought I killed him a million times, but he's always there! He's always there, and he smiles at me! But I can! I can tear that smile… I can tear it and send it six feet under… But today… not today… Kenny is— Today he was— I saw—'

The tension in Kyle's knees broke and the redhead finally fell to the ground. He bit on his lip to keep in a scream and he closed his eyes to keep them from burning. His forehead hit the floor and his fingers dug in to the wood as well. From his chair, Gregory could hear the subtle, yet painful cracking of Kyle's nails tearing from the skin as they scraped desperately against the floor.

'…Why! Why…'

Gregory let out a small sigh and wrapped up his sleaves. Quietly, he walked towards the broken redhead and pulled his hurting fingers from the ground to wrap the skinny arm over his shoulder. Kyle did not say a word as Gregory pulled his body across the room and to his own bedroom.

'Christophe?' Gregory knocked on Kyle's bedroom door before opening it wide. The brunet was sitting wide on the bed, with his medical kit spread out. He jumped as Gregory dropped the redhead's still body onto the mattress and instantly, the blond could see invisible panic cross Christophe's face. 'Take care of him, will you? And tell him to come to me after that.'

The bedroom door shut, leaving a shocked Christophe with a distraught Kyle.

'Kyle? Kyle!' Christophe's medical kit fell to the floor as he shook the redhead's shoulders. But Kyle continued to stare blankly through dim, unblinking eyes. It was as if he wasn't even breathing through the gap between his lips. 'Kyle, what happened?'

Kyle did not move. He stayed as a marble statue with eyes of stone as they stared, but through his parted lips, Christophe could hear a ghost of words leak out. Quoi? Christophe asked. What did you say? And the words repeated.

'Kill me…' Dim hazel circles glimmered as they froze. 'Christophe, please. Kill me…'

Christophe leaned away from Kyle's mouth, his eyes now heavy as he watched Kyle's existence burn in his mind. It was not a challenge or a tease; Kyle begged the wish he locked up deep in his heart.

'No... I can't do that.'

Slowly, the colour began to return to Kyle's eyes and they shone under the light. They glowed in all possible shades of green, even hinting blue and yellow and pink, but everything else about him stayed frozen. Christophe watched in silence. He watched Kyle's emerald eyes as they cried. He watched Kyle cry without a voice or a single tear.

.

'I want a new job.'

Gregory looked up and smirked lightly as he saw Kyle's hardened face and body expression.

'Better now, are we? Didn't think I'd see you break down like that, to be honest. It was quite amusing.' But Gregory's wicked words did not move a muscle in Kyle's face. The redhead simply kept his frown and continued to stare, making Gregory drop his smirk and adopt a serious atmosphere. 'Why?'

'I have been on this job now for over two months and I haven't come any closer on killing my target. I was hoping you could give me a new target in order to keep my ability to kill in tact.'

'So you want to quit your present job on killing Kenneth McCormick?'

'No!' Kyle took a step forward to emphasise his point. 'I— I will do the job. But just, I need to prove to myself that I haven't changed, that I can still do my job, that I can still keep my emotions and private matters discarded…'

They fell into a long silence. But as Gregory observed Kyle and his tensed quietness, he thought he could see through Kyle, if only a little; it had been a long time since he could see even a spec of his thoughts.

'Fine.' The tension in Kyle's face dropped with Gregory's single word. 'You're lucky. I just got a job. Greg Wales, age forty-nine.'

'Greg? Is that short for Gregory? Makes the job much easier…' Kyle sneered, taking the file from Gregory's out-stretched hand.

'Very funny. Any questions?'

'No,' Kyle flicked through the pages. 'No, don't think so.'

'Really?' Gregory raised his eyebrow as Kyle nodded nonchalantly.

'Sure. I trust you enough.'

Kyle didn't notice Gregory's fingers tense at his words as he made his way back to his bedroom; he was already scanning all the information on the file into his brain, making sure he didn't miss a word.

Strange, Kyle thought. According to the file there was nothing unusual about the man, well, nothing that would make him an assassination target. The only thing Kyle twitched his nose at was that the man occasionally went to female and male prostitutes (why male? Gregory always seemed to get the sexually flexible ones). But even that he stopped when he remarried recently to a single mother. There was a picture of the new family. It showed a happy couple with their non-smiling son going through puberty; the teenager's black hair was almost as richly curled as Kyle's.

Usually, Kyle could tell the client's motives just by flicking through the target's background information, but he could not tell this time. Yet he said he trusted Gregory, if trust was even the right word. Maybe Kyle just didn't want to think and used trust as an excuse not to. He didn't know what would happen if he did.

'Are you okay?'

Christophe was trying to secure his right wrist with a bandage, yet unskilfully, as his fingers were wrapped in tape.

'I'm fine.'

'Sure you are. Here, give it to me.' Christophe's broken, rough skin was wrapped in clean fingers as they gently wrapped the bandage tight around his wrist. 'What happened this time?'

'I jumped out of a window, two stories high.' Christophe's sharp eyes let out a soft light as they watched the movement of Kyle's white fingers against his own olive skin. 'I was fine when I landed. But then the guard dogs got me.'

Kyle let out a small chuckle out his nose; the bandaging was finished.

'I hate fucking guard dogs…'

With his bandaged hand, Christophe tilted Kyle's face up and placed their lips together. Kyle watched the kiss silently.

He had some work to do.

Kyle turned off his phone and placed it in the bottom draw of his bedside table.

.

Gregory Abbot was a rich man and certainly wasn't local. He had come to Kyle's small city for business, leaving his new family in Boston for a few weeks. It was strange that someone would want him dead so far away from home. Probably the client wasn't local either.

It was past twenty-one o'clock, and Kyle was waiting in a Harbucks of a clean business building. The light was dim, as all the shops around him had closed for the day, leaving the quietly lit Harbucks alone and peaceful on the dining floor. As Kyle took his cappuccino to his lips, his eyebrows rose; his target had entered the café.

A latte please, with soy milk. 'A latte please, with soy milk.' And can I have a brownie with that? 'And can I have a cookie with that.' Oh, unexpected.

Kyle looked up, subtly through the corner of his eye. A middle-aged man, dressed in an expensive-looking suit, was sitting straight in the authentic-looking double sofa, sipping on his soy latte. Wrinkles were digging into his skin and the hair on his head was thinning, but he was fairly built with a strong, wide skeleton. Both physically and mentally, he looked strong; ambitious, Kyle sneered invisibly.

'Long day?' The man looked up from his iPhone and found a young, glowing man dressed in cheap baggy clothes smiling at him from a few feet away. 'You look pretty worn out, dude.'

The man laughed with polished amenity at the redhead's friendliness.

'Yes, quite. But it's over now, so I can stretch out and _indulge_.' The man nodded, taking another sip of his drink to emphasise his point. Kyle made an understanding sound, and then hopped over to the empty space beside the man on his sofa.

'You better get going then, huh? You must have a family waiting for you at home.'

The man smiled at Kyle's young, clear skin and rich curls, his long lashes shining around his curious, innocent eyes.

'I don't, actually. No one's waiting for me, I'm staying at a hotel, all alone. My family's waiting in Boston though. I'm here on a business trip.'

'Cool,' Kyle nodded, then quickly shook his head, 'I mean, is it? Do you get lonely on a business trip?'

'Yes. Yes I do, sometimes.' The man's eyes fell, along with the energy in his smile at Kyle words. The theatrical facial expression almost seemed scripted. 'Especially at night. Even a five-star hotel is cold without a partner.'

Kyle chuckled sympathetically, following the man's theatrical expressions. 'Yeah. I know what you mean. I'm still trying to get over the pain of being dumped by my boyfriend. At least you have a family that's missing you though. And I can only dream of staying at a five-star hotel. Where do I have to go home to but an empty old apartment?'

'Well, I'm sorry to hear that...' A heavy hand rested on Kyle's knee, drawing Kyle's eyes up to meet the man's hazel ones. 'It must be tough for you, being left all alone.'

'It is…' Kyle stared into the man's eyes, letting his hand join in the man's resting on his knee. 'You could make it easier though?'

A hopeful, hint of a smile brushed on Kyle's lips, before the redhead got to his feet and moved out of the café. He didn't stop or look back until he stepped into the elevator, when which he turned to blessedly find that the man had followed him, according to plan.

The doors closed and the floor began to sink underneath them. The tension between them trapped inside the closed chamber was almost so dense it made it difficult to breathe. He could tell that the man wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, to feel his skin; he was doing it already with the atmosphere around him.

'Come to my hotel.'

The tension seemed to break with that one, soft order. The air was lighter, and Kyle gave a smile, but kept it seeled with silence.

Kyle knew every single security camera from the business building to the five-star hotel Greg stayed at. He knew exactly which routes he took and which room he took, making sure no security camera caught a single frame of a young redhead and a middle-aged man together. To make sure there was no evidence was a pain in the neck, but it made everything much easier afterwards. And Greg was helpful enough, making sure no one could suspect that they were together in the hotel. After parking in a small road, they entered the building at different times, pleased that they thought no one noticed them. Pleased, oblivious to the fact that they had been watched.

Kyle didn't notice the shadow that had seen him exit Greg's car, and neither did he noticed that he had been watched enter Greg's hotel, watched, with an eye of a hawk.

The shadow was gone by the time Kyle came back out, hiding the pain and horror he had just experienced under his baggy clothes.

.

The automatic lock clicked behind Greg as the man watched Kyle observe his hotel room.

'How do you like it?'

'Well, I can get that this room would definitely make a person feel lonely,' Kyle muttered as he bounced against the perfectly made queen-sized bed. 'Everything's too neat and pretty.'

'I'll take that as a compliment.'

Greg was standing in front of Kyle, looking down on him intently as he slowly undid his necktie. Kyle took in the gaze, killing the urge to gulp and glare. But then the man finally leaned down to dig into Kyle's lips with his own. Kyle's whole face scrunched up like paper as he accepted Greg's mouth. It felt as though a living slug was crawling around against his tongue: repulsive. Kyle wondered if kissing someone always felt so disgusting and wrong, but didn't find an answer before the man leaned away from the kiss.

'Show me your hands.'

Kyle twitched at the unsuspected order, but did as he was told and showed his open palms to Greg. Wrinkles dug deep as Greg smiled softly at Kyle's obedience. The expensive necktie gently slid off the man's neck, and his rough fingers reached out to brush Kyle's hair.

'You have beautiful curls…'

As if those words were a trigger, a fire ignited in Greg's eyes and fierce strength rushed to his hands as he swang the necktie around Kyle's exposed wrists and tied them together. Kyle could only let out a breath of surprise until the man tugged on the necktie, pulling it to tie it around the head of the bed, when which Kyle finally regained his voice.

'Wait! Stop! What the fuck are you doing!' But the man was not listening, too concentrated on tying Kyle's wrists against the bed as he struggled against him. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck! Stop! I fucking mean it, I'm not into this kind of bondage shit!'

Kyle's voice was as good as silence, if not only more stimulating to the man on top of him. In barely a minute, Kyle's shirt was pushed up to his wrists and his pants were thrown to the floor. For a second, Kyle stopped to panic at his exposed knife, but Greg merely smirked at it as if it was a toy.

'How cute,' he chuckled, and flipped Kyle's still body over to show his bare chest. There was a playful hum, and Kyle's frozen body shuddered as the blade slid out of its sheath.

'No. No… What!' Kyle's words drowned inside clenched teeth as the blade cut through the white skin on Kyle's chest. Pain ripped through him, not even letting him scream as the man continued to etch into his skin. The blade finally parted from his skin, letting Kyle let out a shaky breath as a cold and burning sensation attacked his wound.

'There. It's a cute little heart.'

The knife cluttered onto the floor heavily, so far away from Kyle's hands secured against the bed. Gritting his teeth in pain and determination, Kyle rolled back onto his back and rose to his knees to pull on the necktie with all he had to be freed. Kyle heard a high laughter behind him a second before he was pulled back by fierce hands, losing all the strength he had in an instant. Before Kyle could even gasp, an eager finger pushed inside him, twisting and turning before it was joined in by another.

Reactionary tears began to water Kyle's vision from pain, but he didn't let out a sound. Kyle grit his teeth and tensed his arms to send all the power he had into his wrists to pull. The friction burned his skin, but it didn't seem to be doing any good. As the disgusting fingers began to loosen him from behind, Kyle dragged himself up an inch, just enough so that he could dig his teeth into the knot. Kyle didn't care if his teeth chipped or ripped out from his gums; all he cared about was getting free. The fingers suddenly pulled out of him and Kyle could hear the unzipping of Greg's pants behind. Come on, come on, come on, come on! Slowly Kyle could feel his skin slide out of the loosening knot, slowly, slowly…

A light gasp escaped from Kyle as the lustful hands pulled him back again mercilessly. But at that second, as Kyle was pulled back, the knot lightly loosened, just enough for Kyle's hands to slide out free. Free! Greg lost his balance and fell to the floor along with Kyle, who landed skilfully onto his hands and knees. Without a breath, Kyle grabbed his belongings from the floor and jumped up onto his feet like a wild cat, glaring at the man on the floor with fear and hatred.

Kyle wanted to run out the door, run and never stop; but at the same time he couldn't move. Kyle's clothes dropped to the floor as Greg began to groan back to full consciousness. And then the man turned around to find Kyle staring at him fiercely and his eyes began to widen.

'Put— put that down…' Greg's eyes did not blink as he watched Kyle standing there naked, holding the knife smeared with his own blood. Beads of cold sweat began to emerge on his forehead as Kyle kept his strong grip on the knife, pointing it at Greg. 'Come on. Calm down, and put the knife down. I'm sorry if I scared you, I just lost control a little bit. I'm sorry. I won't do anything you don't like, so put the knife down.'

Greg took a careful step forward, speaking with a gentle voice. He could see Kyle shaking in fear and fury, and he slowly put his hand up, indicating the knife.

'Here. Don't do anything stupid… Give the knife to me.'

'Stop!' Kyle shouted. But the man did not listen. He just continued to take another slow step forward, and another, gradually closing the distance between them. 'I said, stop!'

The knife shot forward, tearing through the air to create a loud scream. Greg Abbot fell to the ground in agony as the blade slid out of his belly. He gurgled and screamed, holding the hole in his gut spewing out blood. Kyle watched the man suffer in shock, forgetting the world around him. The scream did not reach his ears and he could not smell or feel the blood trailing down his hand. But then, in a random and sudden instant, Kyle jumped back into reality, hearing the scream and seeing the victim slowly die on the floor in pain.

Eyes a plain shade of green, Kyle raised his knife and dug it into the man's neck. The blade sliced deep enough to cut through the artery, silencing the man into a bloody and messy death.

So much blood. So much blood.

Kyle's shoulders rose and fell with each of his quick, heavy breaths, making the blood cry out of the love heart etched onto his chest and trickle down his white skin.

.

Kyle did not wake up until the afternoon, opening his eyes to wonder whether his window was glowing from the sunrise or sunset. He had stirred in his sleep, grimacing his face as if in pain when the cuts on his chest moved about as he dreamt. When he woke up, he found himself drenched in his sweat, and the wound shaped as a heart on his chest pulsing burningly. Sighing, Kyle slid out of his bed and left his bedroom.

His bedroom door slowly opened and the slight sleepiness fogging his mind instantly cleared in shock. Kyle closed the door behind him, but didn't move from where he was as he kept his eye on the boy sitting on his couch.

'What's this?' Kyle looked up to glare at Gregory who was in his usual seat. It was as if cold ice was running through his veins and freezing his body. Kyle could tell the boy tensing his shoulders at his fierce words, making his rich charcoal curls rising in nervousness as he looked down.

Gregory looked at Kyle with such calmness as he drew in the shock in Kyle's eyes.

'This is Gregory Abbot's stepson, Jeremy.'

'I know that! I mean, what the fuck is he doing here!'

The door opened just as Kyle rose his voice, and closed as Christophe entered the room with a cup of dark black tea. Kyle froze in confusion as Christophe walked up to him and handed him the cup.

'Do you want it?'

'That's the guest's tea, Christophe.'

Christophe kept his eyes on Kyle, not drawing the tea away to give it to the guest as he ignored Gregory's sigh.

'They can share it then.'

Kyle jumped out of his freeze as he heard a soft chuckle and slowly looked down at the teenager sitting on his couch. Gregory saw the tension subtly flow out of Kyle's shoulders and continued his introduction.

'Kyle, this is our client.' Kyle flung his head up from the tensed boy to stare at Gregory in shock, not being able to believe the blond's words. 'He's the one who requested for Greg's death. He flew in with his mother from Boston after hearing the news.'

Christophe took a long sip of the tea as the explanation widened Kyle's eyes and strengthen Jeremy's as his whole body firmed. Kyle tensed as the boy suddenly rose to his feet, looking straight at Kyle with strong eyes.

'Did he suffer?'

The question was asked with the same tension as the boy's eyes. It shocked Kyle, making his heart jump and wound pulse on his chest.

'…Yes.'

With that one, quiet answer, the tension suddenly disappeared from Jeremy's brown eyes, letting a tear fall out and slide down his cheek as he nodded.

'Good…' In that single word Kyle could feel the hate and relief that flooded in the boy. A flash sent in memories of the previous night into Kyle's head, the pain and fear that attacked Kyle as the man savagely began to dominate him. The man's excitement and accustomed actions, the way he touched and praised his curls, tried to calm and take Kyle back into his hands as the redhead freed himself and grabbed the knife. Kyle looked at the boy in front of him; he was almost as tall as Kyle, but he seemed much smaller and weak. Kyle finally knew why the client wanted Greg dead. 'I would have killed him myself, before I would have forced to kill myself. But then, my mother would be left alone. Truly alone…'

Jeremy left after thanking Kyle for consequently saving his life. The air that he left behind him after closing the door of the office was dense and heavy like water sinking into Kyle's clothes. It felt as if his fingers were turning into stone and fall to the ground as a pile of sand, everything slipping away, not being able to catch or grasp anything. He had never experienced such a thing.

'Most of the world would call what we do "evil". But the irony of it is that there are innocent people being salvaged by it.'

'Really? You still think they're innocent even after they ask us to do such things?'

Kyle stared at the closed door of the office as he listened to Christophe and Gregory's words quietly enter him. The room was dyeing into a glowing red, the one last burst of colour and light before it all blew out into night. It was the same savage colour Kyle painted around him when he finished his job, yet it was so beautiful, to the point that it brought sorrow.

His phone was still turned off, quietly waiting in Kyle's bottom draw. Kyle thought of it, and thought of the blond waiting on the other side for his call, the kind-hearted man who Kyle did not know how to kill.

Who was the person who paid for someone to kill Kenny?

Who could have possibly wanted Kenny's death?

* * *

**A.N- Thank you for reading!**

**This story is pretty slow paced isn't it? No wonder people are getting sick of it.**

**I don't know when I'll be updating next, because I'm moving houses to a place with possibly no internet… I'll probably go to an internet café or whatever if I'm motivated enough, but I don't know.**

**Until next time~**


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine: His Only and Dreaded Way_

Stan pressed his palms onto the window of his car, ignoring the iciness of it, and gave his back a long stretch, like a cat, and let out a tired breath. After hours of scrubbing plate after plate after fucking plate, he had finished his part time job at the hotel and was ready to head back home. Home. He thought of the place and his muscles tensed naturally as he remembered the slight tension that lingered between him and his blond roommate. And to think that it was because of one, simple, fucking guy. Scar, a guy he hardly even knew.

Stan's palm slid off the window, only to powerlessly punch the cheek of the man reflecting in it, and he opened the door to get in the car. And it was at that second that he paused, with half his body still out of the car. His eyes widened, then he quickly slid into the car and shut it silently, eyes still fixed ahead through the window.

Speak of the devil. The fucking Devil. On the quiet road, which Stan used for parking, Stan saw another car parking in front of him, and the man who slid out, was no other than the very Scar, his scarlet hair unmistakeable under the dim street light. But what topped Stan's shock, was the man that followed him out from the driver's seat, a middle-aged man Stan had never seen before. Why would Scar be with such a man? Did he know him?

The man wrapped his arm around the redhead's shoulder and pulled him deep against him. A quick shock shot through Stan's veins and for a second he froze, before he took his phone out and took one quick picture.

Carefully, Stan sneaked out of his car and followed as the two began to walk a few feet apart, as if to appear that they were not together at all. And Stan stopped, feet freezing along with his eyes as he watched the destination of the two: the hotel that he worked at.

Stan stayed there, dumbstruck as he stared ahead. He watched the two go in separately, knowing that they were together. A light went on in one of the rooms, and Stan could tell that it was theirs, for in the window before the curtains closed, he saw a flick of burning red hair.

Shocked, with his chest cold and mind burning, Stan chuckled disbelievingly. The small sound continued as he returned back to his car to go back home.

.

It was a quiet morning and Stan could tell that it was clear outside, clear, but icy. It took a bit of motivation to kick himself out of bed, but that motivation came a little easier than other mornings as he remembered what he saw the previous night.

Stan got to his feet to follow the small sound of running water from a tap; he leaned against the bathroom doorframe to eye the person facing the sink.

'You suck at shaving.'

Kenny's back twitched, but he continued without looking back.

'Frankly, I'm better than you.'

'Well, you keep on cutting yourself when you do it.'

'Stan,' Kenny turned as he finished buttoning up his white shirt, 'I never cut myself when I shave. I'm pro at it.'

Stan stayed silent as he stared at Kenny's clean face, and then he looked down at the rims of the sink, before returning back to Kenny.

'Fine, whatever. But would you clean it up afterwards? You know I can't stand blood.'

Kenny glanced at the sink, and scrubbed the dried blood with his fingernails annoyingly. Stan watched silently. Finally, the water was turned off and Kenny moved to exit the bathroom, only to be halted by an arm blocking his way.

'What do you want?' Stan said nothing as Kenny glared up at him. 'Move… I said move, you fucking dickhead!'

Kenny pushed at Stan's arm blocking his way, but the arm soared out of his grip to let its hand grasp at Kenny's collar and swing him until his back hit the bathroom wall. The blond cringed at the impact, but managed to keep his glare on the brunet pushing him into the wall.

'What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Are you fucking high? Took too much anti-depressants you fucking emo cock?'

'I'm concerned about you!' Stan spat, silencing Kenny's curses. 'Dude, I'm worried. Stay away from that little fag of yours. Scar, or whatever his name is, that fucking whore is no good for you. You have no clue who he is and you let him into our house and into your life, but behind your back, I bet he lets anyone fuck his ass.'

Stan's words were like bowls of fire, being sent down Kenny's throat to boil in his stomach, and surely, Kenny was beginning to see red.

'Get the fuck off of me!' Kenny yelled and pushed Stan off of him with all his might. Stan's fingers curled out of Kenny's shirt as he stumbled back and his eyes were widened as he stared at Kenny.

'He is good to me. Scar's the best thing that's happened to me in seven years! But you're right. Sometimes I feel the worst because of him too...' Kenny looked down, but quickly drew his face back up, eyes strong again as he glared at the brunet. 'But that's what love is. Every minute I spend with him I learn more about him. It's _you_ who has no clue about him. You don't see a thing, and you can't! You're jealous because I'm with him and thing's have began to move on around you while you're fucking left there all alone!'

Replacing the dumb founded look from the unexpected word 'Love' thrown at him, a sharp light glimmered in Stan's eyes. And before Kenny could acknowledge it, a fast fist was thrown at his cheek, throwing his back back into the wall behind him. The fire in the room instantly burned out with the single blow, and all that could be heard was Stan's panting and Kenny's shaky breaths. A small drip broke the silence and Kenny let out a small chuckle as he rose off the wall.

'I thought you said you couldn't stand blood,' Kenny said as the blood dropped from his broken lip. It was a quiet sound, but enough to echo off the bathroom tiles.

A whisper of words could be detected from the pit of Stan's throat, and his emotions were carved into his wide, unblinking eyes, but Kenny said nothing about them. Instead, Kenny stepped forward and rested his hand on Stan's frozen shoulder.

'You're not concerned about me… Maybe a bit, for our friendship, but not as much as you stunt up to be. You can't pretend that I'm most important to you. You can't pretend that I can be what you once had and lost.' The hand slid off, as Kenny made his way out the door.

.

Kyle was spread on his bed, quiet and still as he stared up and into the ceiling. But in his head, he was not so quiet, though the words were not many.

He had killed someone, again, after not doing so in months, since he got the job to kill Kenny. He was able to do it, although in the end he wondered if it was intentional. His heart thundered and a rush of black blinded his eyes before he threw the knife. A fear and panic had taken over him and what made him move was not his working mind, but the instincts deep inside him. But the second slash that finished him off, that was intentional, that was to kill. To kill quickly, out of his misery…

A small sigh leaked out of Kyle and he curled his body to hold his head.

However and why-ever he killed Greg, could he do it again? To Kenny? He didn't know. Or maybe he never did. Maybe Kyle never did know anything, and now that he was trying to think he was aware of how ignorant and powerless he was. Why? Why did he begin to think?

But he would see Kenny again. He would see Kenny and then he would know, if he would really be able to kill him.

Kill…

Kyle shuddered as his phone vibrated on the bedside table. It flashed a new text, a text from Kenny.

"_Do you want to hang out tonight?"_

What perfect timing… Kyle frowned as he reached out for his phone and sent a message back.

"_Sure."_

"_Cool. Meet me at the front of Sunshine at nine."_

"_Okay."_

Kyle closed his phone and dropped his arm over his head. He guessed he would find out tonight.

.

Kyle's air was white, dancing around him mockingly as he waited in front of the Sunshine plaza. The lights were beginning to turn off in the building behind him as the clock reached nine o'clock, giving an eerie atmosphere to the plaza at the end of its day.

A few minutes late, Kyle heard someone call his fake name, and he noticed the car pulling in in front of him.

'Hey Scar,' it wasn't the light, cheery voice Kyle was used to as the car window drew down. And emerald eyes widened as he saw the driver looking at him.

'Stan?'

The brunet smiled and opened the door.

'Kenny told me to pick you up. He said work's holding him up.'

Confusion stirred suspicion inside Kyle, but giving into Stan's rare civilised smile, he slipped into the passenger seat and closed the door behind him.

'Why didn't Kenny just contact me?' Kyle asked through a frown as Stan began to drive.

'He forgot his phone.'

The car made a quick turn, taking Kyle by surprise, making him lightly hit himself against the window. The sound of the car's wheels in shadow, Stan's story, and now even his civilised smile was beginning to make Kyle's heart beat a little faster.

'How did he contact _you_ then?'

'I don't know. Maybe he forgot your number but remembered mine.'

'But what would keep Kenny behind? His work finishes at five—'

'I don't know.'

The car came to a sudden halt, making a tensed silence dictate the car.

'Where— where are we?' Kyle tried to stay calm as he searched through the windows. It was dark outside and it was hard to see, but there were trees and bushes, definitely nowhere near the alleyways of Kenny's apartment. 'Stan, why have we stopped here?'

'It's nice, isn't it? Edmund Park. No one comes here at night, unless teenagers are having a party. Perfect if you want a quiet, private conversation.'

Kyle could now hear his heartbeat, and he did not like it, as Stan looked his way, even without his unusual smile. He turned and grasped at the door handle, but with a heavy _click_, all the locks went down in the car, locking them inside.

'What the fuck do you want, Stan! Let me out! You fucking creep!'

'Do you know the Royal Blue Hotel?' Stan's calm question froze Kyle, and the redhead began to turn back quietly, eyes wide as he stared at Stan. He knew the hotel. He was there the previous night, and made one of their rooms a murder scene. Cold flushed through his body as he listened to Stan's words. 'I work there, you know? Wash their dishes three nights a week. Like yesterday, I was there.'

'Why are you telling me this, Stan?'

'Because you where there too? Yesterday, weren't you Scar?'

'I don't know what you're talking about—'

'You were there yesterday with some old guy, weren't you?'

'Stan, I don't know—'

'Really?' Kyle's words were locked. Stan opened his phone and showed Kyle one single photograph on the screen. It was enough to despair him. 'Are you saying that that's not you? There in that picture? Letting that guy lead you towards the hotel with his arm over your shoulder?'

Kyle stared at the picture in denial. He made sure there was no evidence… No witnesses… He…

Kyle's hand cut through the air, aiming at Stan's phone, but the device slipped out of his reach and he stopped as a hand pulled at his curls. He hissed in pain, but Stan's grip on his hair only tightened.

'What the fuck do you want!'

'I want to know why! Why are you seeing Kenny if you're fucking other men? Why? Why Kenny? He doesn't deserve a fucking whore!'

'I'm not a fucking whore!'

Kyle's exclaim stopped Stan's tugging and his yelling, bringing him to a calm, yet firm state.

'Really?' He asked.

'Really! I didn't even fuck that old fuck!'

'Are you sure?' Stan's fingers slid out of Kyle's hair, making the redhead slightly relax from the relief of pain. But his calmness was dark and heavy, and it made Kyle petrify as he listened and watched as Stan drew closer. 'Really? Because I can prove you wrong.'

Emerald eyes narrowed in confusion and then quickly, they shot wide open in defensive shock. A firm hand gripped on Kyle's shoulder, pushing him into the seat, as Stan leaned in and stole his lips.

Surprise turned Kyle's muscles into stone, but as he began to feel Stan lips and tongue move against his own, consciousness began to return. Familiar to the sensation of an unwanted kiss, Kyle's lips and tongue responded in passive resignation. Only his hands flew up to protest, but Stan was quick to grab his wrists; he climbed across onto Kyle's lap and locked his arms firm against the seat behind him as he continued to kiss.

Finally, the slimy warmness freed him as Stan's tongue drew out of his mouth. His heartbeat was soaring and his whole body was burning as his eyes lost the power to glare at the man on top of him.

'You're Kenny's friend,' Kyle said through hard breaths, 'I didn't think you'd be such an asshole.'

'And I didn't think you'd be a slut.' Stan spat. 'With a kiss like that, you can't be innocent.'

'I'm not a slut—' Kyle repeated, a little weaker than before as he broke his eye contact from Stan. 'But I'm not innocent…'

Taken aback, Stan released Kyle's wrists and fell back to his seat. Kyle watched, with hollow eyes.

'Don't tell Kenny.'

'I didn't think you'd really be—'

'Please. I'll do anything—'

Stan looked at Kyle with wide eyes, and saw the desperation that glimmered deep in his emeralds.

'Can't you just leave him?'

Kyle shook his head.

'I have to— I need to be with him.'

Stan sank Kyle's words into his mind in silence, understanding them and weaving them together with his own thoughts. And then to Kyle's confusion, Stan moved his seat back.

'Have you guys had sex yet?'

Kyle tensed a second at the question, but soon released it.

'Yes.'

'Have you sucked his cock, then?'

'No.'

Kyle looked up and Stan drew his hand towards him, palm up.

'Come.'

Stan's voice was gentle, yet it gave Kyle a sense of calm despair. Understanding its meaning, Kyle ignored Stan's hand yet moved across to the space Stan made between the seat and wheel. While he hadn't had sex with many men, his mouth knew different cocks. But not Kenny's. He had not yet given that certain pleasure to the blond who was so caring to give him everything. And now, Kyle wished he had. It suddenly seemed like such a submissive and intimate act. Without a word, Kyle began to undo the front of Stan's jeans and pull them down with Stan's assistance.

'If I listen to you, will you not tell Kenny?'

'No… I won't.'

Kyle confirmed it in Stan's eyes, and then looked down to kiss the head of Stan's already erected cock, before taking the whole thing into his mouth.

Stan's body shuddered, and he grasped the handle beside him as he tried to relax his tensed body. He imagined Scar to be used to it, but the pleasure was still unexpected. Stan could hear and feel Kyle's lips, tongue and mouth suck and blow and lick as his hand massaged his end. His grip tightened around the handle as he kept himself from grasping Kyle's head to pound into him. And he waited, as Kyle sent each pleasure rush through him like thumping pulses, until he ejaculated in Kyle's mouth.

Kyle didn't swallow, and he didn't spit out. He breathed heavily as Stan's cum leaked out of his mouth with saliva and drop onto Stan's thighs and car seat. His emerald eyes were glazed over, mind somewhere else as Stan stared at the finished redhead. He could have looked disgusting, kneeling there, face blank as cum and drool trailed down his lips and chin, but he didn't. He was showing everything with his defensive wall now torn down. And now, Stan could see.

Not able to control himself, Stan grasped Kyle's arm and twirled him around, reversing their positions as he trapped Kyle underneath him on the seat. Kyle didn't say anything, but he couldn't have, as Stan was quick to seal his lips. Stan didn't care if his own cum smeared on his face and mouth as he kissed Kyle. And he continued to kiss as his fingers began to strip Kyle's clothes off his skin, only stopping to pull his shirt above his head.

Kyle did not protest any more; he even helped as Stan pulled his pants down to lock them around his ankles. Their erections brushed against each other as Stan continued to kiss and caress Kyle's skin, and Kyle let him.

Stan rose and bent Kyle's legs to slip a finger into the redhead. Kyle cringed at the dryness and then the splitting sting as the second went in and twisted Kyle open. The redhead's world suddenly shook as Stan pushed the seat down further, and the second the seat stopped, their eyes met. There was a still quietness in that one short second, and Kyle almost lost himself as he stared, until Stan went into him.

Kyle stopped his breath at the unexpected timing, and kept it as Stan pushed in further, until he finally drew out. He didn't want to shout or cry at the unkind brunet, didn't want to struggle and then lose everything. He began to breathe, harmonizing with each of Stan's thrusts. All the sounds and movements around them matched that one rhythm as Stan pounded in to become one with Kyle.

Kyle's whole body ached, stretched and bent inside the small car, and Stan was larger and less merciful than Kenny. But Kyle felt the worst, when pain began to turn into pleasure. He did not know why, but the pleasure Stan gave and sent into him was like a stab to the heart. While his body ached for more, he wanted to scream to stop. Scream to stop his body wanting it, wanting more. And he did not know why. Why he desire it, and hated the desire.

The sound Kyle finally made was not a scream, but a loud moan as he released onto Stan's seat. Soon, he felt Stan shudder and release into him.

Kyle felt weak, despite his breaths that were heavy and strong. He could feel Stan on him, and in him, their two bodies together, and he didn't know what to think. He looked up, and froze, as he met Stan's eyes again. Those same eyes he saw before Stan went into him, those eyes that were not shown towards him before, not as Scar. But Kyle knew those eyes. He saw them years ago.

Their eye contact broke as Stan drew out of him, making Kyle shiver at the sudden chill. And then Stan looked up again at Kyle's eyes, and Kyle feared. Stan's hand slowly drew towards his cheek, his lips parting to say a single word, and Kyle feared it more than anything.

Before any voice could come through Stan's mouth, Kyle pushed Stan off of him and unlocked the door to escape out of the car. He dropped to the ground as the door suddenly opened, and pulled his pants up with one hand as he unsteadily moved away from his fear.

Kyle walked on weak feet and legs, but a quick pain lost his concentration and he fell down into the bushes of the park. The thin, sharp branches scratched at his skin like skeleton fingers striving for soft warm skin. Madly, Kyle made a counter-attack, tearing leaves off their branches and pushing them into his mouth. He chewed the sour and bitter juice out, then rolled the leaves along his teeth before spitting it all out. And Kyle crawled out of the bushes, ignoring the blood his struggle brought forth, just making it out of the bush before he collapsed onto the grass.

The park was cold and dark, and the air around him was not kind as they dug icy spears into his skin and body. He felt alone and powerless, like he had no muscle in between his skin and bone. He felt as if the world had died and ended and there was only him to see it rot.

In the despair, he wanted one person next to him, one person, so that the end would not be so dreadful.

Slow footsteps came up towards him and Kyle looked up, to see Stan above him. His deep blue eyes held sorrow as they looked down on him, but Kyle could not feel sorry for the brunet. For the first time, he wanted to use his profession to kill for his own self.

Stan leaned down and took Kyle by the arm to pull him up. Kyle did not protest as Stan led him gently towards the car, but hated the kindness of the arm helping him. He wanted to push away and walk on his own, but he knew he could not do it. He would rather have Stan beside him than to experience that one dreadful moment he had a second ago, all alone in despair at the end of the world.

.

When Stan stopped the car, Kyle slipped out without saying a word to thank or condemn Stan. The apartment door was locked, and Kyle waited in silence as Stan opened it up for him. Kyle climbed the stairs, ignoring the pain each step gave him, because he could see the light leaking through the small window of the door.

'Scar?' Kenny gasped as Kyle entered the room, followed by Stan. 'What are you doing here—'

Kenny's words were distracted away from the blond's mouth as Kyle grasped at his arm and began pulling him away deeper into the apartment.

Stan watched in silence as Kyle took Kenny into the blond's bedroom. After hearing the firm slam of the door shutting behind them, Stan reached for the packet of cigarettes lying on the windowsill and lit one in his mouth. He opened the window as he breathed the toxic air in, letting the icy wind prickle his skin with needles. The end of the cigarette glimmered red, and Stan thought it was enough to light the whole night, almost too bright. Maybe not. But it was enough to burn the whole house down, with them in it.

Meanwhile, confusion was dictating Kenny's mouth as Kyle continued to pull him, only shutting up once Kyle stopped to push the blond onto the bed. Kenny opened his mouth once again to speak, but Kyle made sure he didn't by pushing a deep kiss onto his mouth. The heat and texture, Kyle's taste dragged Kenny into a satisfying silence that drowned him in the feel. It was an unusual kiss, unusually desperate, with a fresh-bitter taste. But Kenny did not question it, only missing it once Kyle stopped.

'Hey!' Kenny gasped as Kyle began to lean down, fingers beginning to fiddle with the front of his jeans. 'What are you doing?'

'I just—' Kyle stopped for a second as he wondered himself, noticing what he was doing. But his fingers began to move again. 'I need to.'

Give you pleasure, and make you feel good. Kyle didn't know why, but he was desperate to do so. He wanted to give Kenny pleasure, more so than he had given anyone before, more so, than he had just given Stan and received in return.

He could feel Kenny tense and spasm as he took him into his mouth. He worked more deeply and passionately than he had ever done before, and he made Kenny respond in ways he never thought he could. But no matter what he did, no matter how much pleasure he gave Kenny, it did not satisfy himself or the hole inside him that Stan tore open that night.


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter Ten: Knock, knock, knockin'_

It was still dark outside when Kyle woke up, the window lit only by the dying orange of the distant streetlights. Kyle sat up, and watched the dark window as if it was too bright; the old photo still sat on its windowsill behind the transparent curtains.

His attention was drawn away when he felt movement beside him, and found Kenny stirring in his sleep. Kyle's lips tensed as he watched a scab tear off of the, not yet healed, number four etched into Kenny's chest, making a subtle drop of blood ooze on his skin. It looked a bit painful, yet Kenny merely moaned quietly, before going back to his calm, rhythmic breaths. Emerald eyes lingered for a minute on the wound, but before the question of its origin could reach Kyle's wonder, the redhead went back to observing the window. His head was already occupied with too many questions.

Why? It was the question that was haunting Kyle's night and day. Why was Kenny still alive? Why would someone want him dead? Why did Kyle keep him alive? Why did Kyle spend his time with him, if not for the job? Why did it feel like his heart was sinking in the middle of the ocean? Why, did he not want to leave?

A small sigh leaked out of his mouth before he dug his fingers into his hair and rustled his curls about wildly. So many whys, and yet not one answer. Or maybe, there was one, but one that Kyle did not want to admit to.

Leaving his unpleasant thoughts to a halt, Kyle reached down and grabbed his pants to wrap his legs back in clothes. And it was when Kyle raised his bottom up to pull up his jeans that he heard a small voice beside him.

'You going already?'

'I thought you were asleep.'

Kenny closed his eyes back shut and wrapped his arms around Kyle's waist, pulling the redhead back down into the mattress.

'Stay a while longer. Until the sun goes up.'

Watching Kenny dwell in between sleep and consciousness beside him, Kyle kept a sigh in his lungs and turned his head to the window and its photograph.

'Kenny, I need to go to the bathroom.'

The arms reluctantly slid off of his waist as Kyle moved out of the bed. With hollow feet dragging behind him, Kyle moved through the cold corridor towards the bathroom until he stopped in front of a closed door.

Kyle's eyes thinned heavily as if they could see through the bedroom door, and hot blood pumped from his heart and through his body as he remembered the previous night. Now, Kyle knew the heat of another skin, the third heat, which was forced onto him. And as he stood there at the door of the third man, his touch was beginning to return. The heat— The breath moisturising his lips—

Gasping his cringing body back to life, Kyle rushed his pace to the bathroom and to the sink, barely taking a breath before he splashed cold water on his face.

The first burst of breath after the water sent a new wave of life through him, waking Kyle up from the long night. He pressed his hand onto the rim of the sink and leaned his tired weight in as he panted. It felt like he hadn't taken a breath in hours. He looked up from the clean white sink, feeling the drops of water trickle down his skin as he looked into the mirror. His cheeks were white, but there was colour on his lips as air rushed past them.

Kyle's fingers tightened around the sink. The third heat that was forced onto him… The killer had one way to prevent it, which he would've done. But he didn't. Why? Because Stan was innocent? Even with what he had done?

Kenny's room was lit kindly when Kyle returned and the blond was sitting up, staring out the window as Kyle was a few minutes ago. He smiled when he found Kyle returning back to his spot next to him before turning his eyes back to the photograph by the window.

'What is your relationship with Stan?' Kyle asked, as he shared the same view as Kenny. Kyle did not notice, but the question was one he never had wondered to ask. He always assumed he could guess people's emotions and relationships between others just by quick observation. And the same with Kenny and Stan, but now, he did not know what was truly between them.

Kenny paused at the question, muscles tensing for a second beside Kyle, but they relaxed before Kyle could wonder why.

'We have been friends since as long as I can remember.'

'Just friends?'

Kenny smirked lightly at himself, without a hint of humour.

'We only became really close since high school when Kyle, the redhead in the photograph, moved away. Stan and him were like brothers with a sexual tension, which, sounds kinda bad doesn't it? Anyway, he was the world to Stan and he was an important friend to me. The fat one drifted away since Kyle moved so it was only Stan and me left. We only had each other so, it was inevitable.' Kenny chuckled troublingly at his last phrase.

'So, that's it? You were nothing more than inevitably close friends?'

Kenny shook his head.

'We tried to be. Once. Last Christmas, I think. We were both drunk, but sober enough to know what we were doing and remember it. But we chose that it wouldn't lead to anything. I guessed that we were both trying to fill in a missing gap with each other, ignoring the fact that neither of us would fit.'

Before Kyle realised it, he was looking deep into Kenny's eyes that were smiling ghostly at him.

'Just once?'

'Just once.'

'And do you think Stan feels the same way as you?'

Kenny's smile dropped in confusion.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, do you think he wanted it to lead to nothing?' The smile now on Kenny's lips had completely dropped as his eyes and ears took in Kyle's words. 'Don't you think he wanted something more?'

'I don't think Stan knows what he really wants. And what he _thinks_ he wants, I can't give him, because I know it's a lie. I think Stan himself is beginning to realise that and it's making us drift slightly apart.' A smile returned back to Kenny's mouth as he gave Kyle a reassuring gaze. 'Drifting apart to a comfortable distance.'

Kyle's eyes wondered down in thought, but losing its destination, he turned his eyes to the window once again. The indigo black of the sky was beginning to lighten to a dark cobalt blue, the artificial orange still quivering in its embrace. He could now begin to see the small details of the photograph: the lively eyes and ancient smiles.

'You really like that photograph, don't you?'

'It's strange to find my smile on a person I don't know…' Green eyes turned back to entwine its gaze with icy blues. 'Next to you.'

'Do you want it?'

'Huh?'

Kenny swiftly rolled over Kyle and reached out for the photograph, bringing it out of the shadows and into the dim bedroom light.

'You can keep it. Maybe one day, you might even be able to see yourself in the picture smiling.'

'What is that supposed to mean?'

A small ghost of a chuckle caressed Kyle's ears before he felt warmth as Kenny leaned in to kiss him.

'It means you need to smile more.' Another kiss. 'I want you to.'

As Kenny drew back, Kyle took the frame into his hands, not being able to lift his lips as Kenny wished. Instead, his hair drew a curtain over his eyes as he looked down at the picture.

'I can't keep it— Isn't it important to you?'

Kenny looked down at the picture in Kyle's hands and Kyle watched, confused and shocked, an emotion similar to fear twirling inside him. And then Kenny looked up.

'There are more important things than history and memory.'

The blue of the window was brightening. The dark shadow of the night was drawing away to bring in a new morning and to cast its light in the small room of the grubby apartment.

'I better get going…'

Kenny made a taken-aback sound as Kyle suddenly slid out of bed and began dressing himself.

'Why so early?'

'It'll be better to get home before my roommate finds out that I've been out for the whole night.'

'Your roommate? What's _he_ like?'

Kyle paused as Kenny followed him out his bedroom.

'Control freak.'

With strong feet, Kyle moved his way through the corridor, until he reached the door, where his feet stopped him mid-step. With that un-finished step, Kyle turned, and met Kenny's confused gaze. Slowly, Kyle lifted the corners of his lips in an attempt to grant Kenny's wish; his shoulders rose with the motion, almost like a shrug. The imperfect smile drew out a chuckle out of the blond that quietly died under the sound of the door closing behind the redhead.

A cool light reflected on Kenny's eyelashes, making him blink. The morning light was now a glowing streak of orange, floating through the window. Blue eyes then noticed Stan's cigarette packet opened on the windowsill, and sighed with heavy lungs.

Without a second thought, Kenny placed one of the brunet's sticks in between his thin lips, and when he reached out for the lighter, his eyes caught a glimpse of the couch behind him. His eyes widened, cigarette tilting on his parting lips. In the middle of the plain, unsuspected couch, the phone that he couldn't find the previous morning was lying mysteriously in the centre. He quickly lit the cigarette before taking the phone into his hand, opening it to check through the history.

His gaze paused when he spotted a new conversation with Scar he did not remember.

'Did he leave, then?'

Kenny looked up from his phone, the devise disappearing from his mind at the voice. Eyelids lowering, he blew out a long fluent smoke along with a sigh.

'Good morning to you too, emo.' Kenny said, slipping his phone into his pocket. 'Didn't know you started smoking again.' Stan ruffled his straight dark hair and gave Kenny an annoyed glance.

'Did he?' He repeated.

'If you mean "he", as in "Scar" then—'

'No,' Stan interrupted with quiet words, his eyes now on the door that shut a few minutes ago. 'I meant "he", as in "Kyle".'

The firmness fled away like a stream from Kenny's eyes and lips. The cigarette would have fallen if it weren't secured enough in his fingers. Everything was made still from that one name, except for the smoke dancing in the air, quivering in the morning air swimming in through the window.

'What do you mean?' Kenny finally demanded in a whisper. 'What the fuck do you mean by that?'

Stan stayed silent, but he returned his eyes back to Kenny, absent of emotion, provoking the blond's anger.

Kenny threw the cigarette out the window and stomped his way to the quiet brunet, locking his fingers around Stan's shirt.

'I am sick and tired of your bullshit! Do you even know what the fuck is coming out of your mouth?'

Still silence. Kenny shook his hand, rocking Stan back and forth against his collar, but still not being able to stimulate the powerless brunet.

'At first I thought he was…'

Kenny's fingers unconsciously relaxed around Stan's collar as the brunet opened his mouth for quiet words. They were almost impossible to comprehend, but they were clear enough to drain away the tension between them.

'Huh?'

'When I first saw him in the bar, I thought he was Kyle. He looked exactly how I imagined him to be if he had grown. A little taller maybe, and lack of meat and colour to his skin. But then, as he became closer to you, I realised that he was a stranger. He wasn't Kyle. He was a different person.'

Kenny took a step back, eyes not able to blink as he heard Stan's voice and words, lungs, barely functioning.

'What—'

'But I can see now… He is Kyle. He is… How could he not be?'

'Stan what are you—'

'Can't you see?' Stan exclaimed, grasping Kenny's shoulders tight with long fingers. 'He _is_ Kyle! He was never Scar. He was Kyle. He always was!'

In Kenny's still eyes, there was horror beginning to sink into the icy blue as he stared at Stan talking as if to himself.

'Why are you saying that?' Kenny's voice finally reached Stan's devoted mind. 'When? How did you get that thought?'

Reality began to morph Stan's face into realisation to what he had said to the blond: horrifying realisation of his own actions from the previous night that had led to his epiphany.

'How did you suddenly get that thought Stan? Why would you suddenly say that Scar is Kyle?' Stan's expression slowly began to break open, but what Kenny wanted a minute ago did not satisfy him now. 'What happened that would make you see them as the same person?'

'What do you—'

'I couldn't find my phone yesterday, but this morning it magically appeared on the couch. With a conversation with Scar I don't remember having.' Kenny slid the device out of his pocket and showed the screen to Stan as if for evidence. Ocean eyes caught the one line: "_Meet me at the front of Sunshine at nine_."

'You came back yesterday, late. With Scar.' Kenny slid the phone back into his pocket. 'I thought he was acting strange last night… And then this morning he was suddenly asking about you… Jesus— What did you do!'

Kenny's hand shot back at Stan's shirt, but this time the brunet caught his fist before fingers could brush at the fabric around his collar. Ocean eyes glared, but they shook, unable to keep their focus on Kenny's eyes.

With a swing of his arm, Stan let go of Kenny's hand and pushed him away, all at once. The blond lost his balance and fell back to the ground, squinting at the impact, until he noticed Stan moving towards the door.

'What did you do!' He repeated at Stan's back, now more desperate than enraged. 'If you do anything to him Stan— If you obstruct us, I swear, I'll never forgive you!'

The door closed, swiftly on Stan's back, with a _bang_. Kenny gritted his teeth and his hand formed a tight, shaking fist. It shot into the air and fell crashing into the floor in a second. _Thud_. But even with anger, the sound of Kenny's fist colliding with the floor did not exceed the sound of the door that Stan had shut on him. Somehow, the fact was painfully hateful to Kenny.

.

Lying on his bed alone with himself, Kyle was free to spread his tired limbs across the mattress. But his arms were up in the air, securing a photograph above his head in his vision. His eye twitched as he stared at the picture, and slowly, the corner of Kyle's lips began to move up, shakily. The forced action ended with a sigh and the photograph was placed downwards on the bedside table. He did not want to smile now. The lie hurt more than usual.

As his smile flowed away the whys began to return back to him. Why did he desperately not want Kenny to see him with another man? Why would Stan use that to fuck him? Why didn't Kyle stop him? Why couldn't he kill? Not Kenny, not Stan, not anyone anymore deliberately? Why was death different now? Why did his head hurt so much? Why was his chest hurting so much? Why was the world different now? Why was everything so wrong now? Why Christophe? Why God? Why Kenny? Why?

Kyle paused, and again, he moved the corner of his lips. They grew and grew, wider than before, and his eyes thinned naturally with the movement. His whole face scrunched up with the smile into one mess of forced muscle tension. His teeth glimmered, wrinkles dug deep, and reactionary tears began to form in behind his eyelids. Smile, smile, even if it's a lie, smile. Let the emotion come later, but for now, smile. Let the lie turn into truth, and smile…

'Kyle?'

The bedroom door opened before it would wait for a reply, and Kyle jumped up on his bed, wiping the animated expression off his hurting face.

'What!' Kyle spat at the French man uncharacteristically, making the man blink. Kyle was trying to hide his embarrassment by rubbing his lips with his palm, but the flush in his cheeks betrayed him.

Kyle's unusual behaviour made Christophe frown tighter than his natural expression. He walked over to Kyle's bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, which made the redhead press his knees to his chest defensively.

'Why are you nervous?' Christophe slid his fingers across Kyle's cheek, but froze as Kyle took the fingers into his own and pushed them away from him. Hazel eyes subtly widened at Kyle's soft rejection, a small sign of great shock. 'There's something wrong with you…'

Kyle looked up at Christophe's quiet words, eyebrows quivering.

'Wrong… Wrong?' Christophe didn't nod, but continued to stare. 'What do you mean, "wrong"? How do you know what's wrong? And what if you're wrong, that's wrong? What if I'm not wrong, but finding something that's right? What if everything you believed in until now, everything that was right, slowly _or_ suddenly, became wrong? Christophe? What would you do?'

Christophe couldn't answer. He was bewildered with Kyle's sudden outburst of philosophical questions. He wasn't used to Kyle talking. Not for long. Not his thoughts.

'What if you were insane until now, and slowly began to regain your sanity? Christophe, what would you do? Wouldn't you then think of your sanity as insanity? Then what are you meant to be? Could you become sane enough to realise that you _are_ sane? Or would just be sane enough to realise that you would always remain insane?'

'I don't understand—'

'Because you don't think! Why don't you think, Christophe? Why—' Kyle's fist rose, aiming to shoot down on the mattress in frustration. But in the air, it was caught by Christophe, whose eyes were now relaxed and heavy.

'I don't think, because all it would be, would be an unnecessary burden. It would be too heavy for my hands, and it will cause me to drop _everything_. So tell me, Kyle…' His other hand joined in and clasped around Kyle's fist that was now loosing its strength into a soft palm. 'Why do we have to think?'

On Kyle's lips and his eyelashes, Christophe could see pain making them shake. Red eyebrows furrowed hopelessly, as Kyle looked into Christophe's eyes.

'To stay human…'

'But you _are_ human, Kyle—'

Christophe's words were halted, by a small shake of Kyle's head.

'I kill people, Christophe. And for what? Because I'm told to? Because it's my job?'

'You kill animals, Kyle!'

'They are human beings! How can their sins justify my own! Whether they've raped, lied, stole, killed— how could that justify me killing them? Am I God? Christophe? Am I Lord God Almighty? Do I have the right to punish when I'm doing it for the money!'

'You don't do it for the money!' Christophe took the enraged Kyle into his chest, as if to close off his words under the pressure of his hold. 'You do it for others. You do it for _us_.'

Kyle's emotions were like a wave, rising and sinking, over and over again uncontrollably and hitting against the shores. But now, with Christophe's words and heat sinking into him, they were beginning to flow away.

Feeling the redhead relax in his arms, Christophe loosened his hold to tilt Kyle's face up press their lips together. Christophe's lips were rough and hot, almost uncomfortably so. They seemed different, the lips he knew for almost seven years now seeming unfamiliar. Kyle tilted his head, parting their lips apart, and slowly shook his head from side to side.

'I don't know if I can anymore…'

Christophe's eyes twitched in confusion.

'You finished the job the other day.'

'I lost myself when I did it. Hardly professional…' Kyle dismissed.

'But you finished the job of your childhood friend.' Kyle's body froze. He slowly looked up with invisible dread into Christophe's eyes. 'You killed Kenny. Haven't you?'

Unable to speak, Kyle's eyes unconsciously flowed to the photo frame faced down on his bedside table, only for a second, and they returned before Christophe could follow his gaze.

Still with his face as stone without a word, the redhead slipped away off the mattress and rose to his feet on the ground. Without looking back, he left the room with his eyes to the ground, leaving Christophe on his own in confusion and silence. The brunet could still feel Kyle's warmth in his arms, but it was quickly disappearing.

When he cast his eyes away from the door that shut behind Kyle, his eyes caught the bedside table. It was what had caught Kyle's gaze a second ago. There was an unfamiliar frame facing down on the wood and, curious, Christophe took it into his hands. As the smiles in the photograph sank into his vision, Christophe's brown eyes quivered wide, before they began to narrow sharply.

.

'Have you ever felt lifeless? Like you had your fate in the hands of someone else, and they had a chain that led to your life and death?'

'Like a soldier?'

'Have you ever felt trapped? Like you were in a cage and the gate was open, you're free to go. But you knew that if you left, someone would replace you in your stead?'

'Like a bird?'

Kyle smiled a frown.

'A mockingbird.'

There was silence. Kyle couldn't even hear the breath of Kenny on the other end of the phone. But he knew he was there, and that was enough until he could hear Kenny's voice again.

'Where are you?'

Kyle looked above, his gaze gliding up the wall of bricks until they reached the familiar window, imagining someone on the other side of the glass.

'I'm at your apartment—'

'What! Why haven't you knocked? I'm right here.'

'Are you alone?'

'Well, Stan's not here. If that's what you mean…'

Kyle relaxed his eyelids and let out a soft sigh out of his nose, too much like a normal breath for Kenny to detect, before opening his eyes clear.

'…Knock, knock.'

Kenny's front door opened a few seconds later, unnecessarily wide with Kenny's haste. The blond shook his head when he found the redhead standing still in the freezing air, and then quickly rushed over and wrapped his arms around him.

'You're fucking cold.'

'No I'm not.'

Kenny sighed, and then released Kyle to pull him into his apartment. The lights were not on, and the windows hardly let in any light of the dark, cloudy day.

'It's as cold as outside, but at least it doesn't have the wind. I'll put on the kettle. You want a cup of tea?'

But the blond prepared for two cups even before hearing his answer. Under the sound of the whistling kettle, Kyle could hear the faint sound of the radio. He sat on the couch and listened, the music playing caught his ears.

The calm, enfolding piano and the subtle acoustic guitar. The heart-aching voice of Antony singing how it feels like he's knockin' on heaven's door. It was quiet, a whisper of a ghost. But it was…

Kyle's shoulder twitched under the pain throbbing deep in his chest.

Kenny came to Kyle with two warm cups, but came to a pause beside him as he watched Kyle sitting on his couch with tears running down his cheeks. Kyle's palm rose to his eyes, but now his lips and chin were shaking, so he leaned his face down to his knees. Kenny stared, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted, standing there unable to speak or move as he watched Kyle cry.

A moment past, and Kenny was finally able to move. He placed the cups on the coffee table and sat next to the redhead pressing his forehead to his knees. He knew that he had regained his voice, but he chose not to say anything of half-hearted comfort. He thought that any words now would be artificial. Instead he lightly wrapped Kyle's shoulders with his hands and leaned his head onto the redhead's back. Kyle shook at the unexpected contact, then slowly moved to hug Kenny tightly in return.

'I never felt trapped,' Kenny began softly, answering Kyle's earlier question. 'I knew I always had limited opportunity in life but I was still free. So no, I never felt trapped. But I've felt just as powerless as being so.'

Kyle finally drew away from Kenny's chest to look into his face in surprise.

'Powerless?' Kenny nodded. And Kyle shook his head, almost too subtly to notice. 'How?'

'Like I have the keys to a cage to free someone. But I don't know which key is the right one, and I'm taking too much time trying each one out, feeling scared that I might be too late.'

'When have you felt like that?'

Kenny looked up, and smiled weakly.

'All the time.'

The cold was silent. His eyes glistened from tears, but his face was now still as he looked deep into icy-blue. His fingers grasped around Kenny's, which tightened around his own.

Do you have the keys to my cage? The last tear fell, and Kenny's eyes widened. 'Can you free me, Kenny?'

Kyle's fingers around Kenny's began to lose its strength, but before they could slip away, the blond grasped them strongly without hesitation or fear.

'Will you run?' Kyle paused. 'You only need to run to be free, Scar. If you run, I'll run with you.'

Maybe it was the firmness in Kenny's fingers flowing into him, but Kyle's hand that felt so weak a second ago began to regain its strength around Kenny's.

'I'll run. I'll run as fast as I can.'

Kenny smiled, his hold tightening once more before they let go of Kyle's hands.

'I'll get my stuff. Then we can go to your place and get yours.'

'Are we leaving _now_?' Kyle got to his feet. Kenny paused on his way to his room, and looked back at Kyle and nodded.

'I'll go with you to the end. I promise. Now, let's run.'

Weight began to drift away from his body, even his red hair rose with excitement at Kenny's words. Light shone in his eyes, but they were no longer glistening.

A wide smile melted on Kyle's face.


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven: Rainbows to Stay Alive_

The sun was not yet completely down, but what difference would it have made? The clouds were thick and grey to the horizon of mountains and buildings, not letting a speck of bright light through. Yet what Kyle felt as he ran through the dark streets was pure clarity.

Kenny was staggering behind him with undone shoelaces slapping against his boots. He had promised to go to the other side of the world if it were with Scar, but all he had with him was the one bag that weighed into his shoulder as he ran. I mean, people were born naked and empty-handed, so one bag was enough to start a new life, right?

Kyle felt restless as he rocked inside the bus. He wanted to run all the way home, but kept the urge to himself. But standing still tempted his mind to work and think over. The thoughts of Christophe and Gregory began to crawl into him, and it was painful, because beside him was Kenny who promised to follow him to the end, and he knew he wanted that more than anything. To run. The thought had never even occurred to him before. Kyle couldn't even imagine how liberating and relieving it must feel to runaway, but he _knew_ that he wanted Kenny alive, and beside him.

For a second, Kyle didn't know what he was running for.

'Scar,' the soft call drew Kyle out of his thoughts, and realised that he was staring at his own reflection in the window of the bus. Kenny smiled and the bus came to a halt. 'We're here.'

They walked quickly until they stopped in front of an old, brick apartment. Kyle glanced up, and relaxed as he saw that the windows of his old apartment were not lit up.

'You wait here. I'll be as quick as I can,' Kyle said, pulling Kenny against the damp brick wall of his apartment. He looked up again at the windows; there was a small ghost of doubt inside him.

'Are you okay?' It was as if Kenny had noticed Kyle's quickening heartbeat before he did. He was still doubtful, and worried, but why? It was not like he was risking his death, or anyone else's for that matter. _So what_ if he was found, if Tophe or Greg caught him packing up for departure? He could just tear himself away and run, couldn't he? Kyle shook his head, and dismissed his worry as paranoia.

'Yeah, I'm okay. Just— could you get me some soda or something while you wait? There's a store around the corner.'

'Sure.'

Kyle smiled and handed Kenny his wallet, but the blond waved it away before taking off. He watched Kenny's back briefly, before turning back to the front door of his house and opening it.

'Hello?' The doubt in Kyle's stomach made him ask the dark, silent house. No answer, and Kyle released the subtle tension in his throat. He climbed the stairs without turning on the light, and even after entering the office, or even his bedroom he left the lights off. His memory gave him a clear picture of his room and his eyes began to adjust to the dark, enough to search for the things he would take for his runaway.

Quickly.

Kyle fished out an old canvas bag from under his bed and placed it on top. Now, what did he need? Essentials. Passports, IDs, papers, (some fake, some not). Money, bank accounts and details (Kyle had no idea how much money he had, but trusted Gregory for paying him a fair amount). Clothes. Kyle wriggled his baggy coat on as he stepped to the front of his bed. And… He opened the bedside draws and took the pill case out, throwing it into his bag, also remembering his knife and un-strapping it from his ankle to join it with the pills. It suddenly felt cold without the leather sheath strapped around his ankle, and he felt naked. It reminded him of his one last tool, and he slipped his hand under his pillow and drew out his revolver.

The small thing was not a gift from the cautious Christophe, but from Gregory. What dear consideration, Kyle thought when the blond gave it to him along with its quiet ammunition. Not exactly the best tool for assassination, and Kyle had never used it, except for testing. But it could possibly come in hand for defence in desperate situations. The thing was only as loud as a BB gun. But more than the gun in his hand, it was the words that Gregory gave him along with it that weighed on him.

'_You have to protect your life yourself, now.'_

Kyle zipped his bag shut, his revolver now in the right pocket of his coat, with his phone in the left. They rattled as Kyle tapped his torso and hips to check for his belongings, looking around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, until his eyes stopped on the bedside table. It was the photo frame, faced down deliberately, hiding the picture of the four smiling boys. Kyle took it in his hand, and strapped his bag on his shoulder. He had everything now. He was ready to leave.

'Are you going somewhere?'

His heart stopped, the sudden shocking jolt in his chest was almost painful. The lights were not yet on, but Kyle could see so clearly in his dark room, and even if he couldn't, with the rough voice and the hint of an accent in it, its owner was only obvious.

'Tophe.'

Christophe took his steps towards him casually, but with every step, Kyle's heartbeat pounded with more weight. Instead of running, he waited and endured with tension, until olive-skinned fingers finally plucked at the strap weighing on Kyle's shoulder.

'What's the bag for?'

It fell to the ground with a heavy _thud_, making Kyle flinch. He had no idea why he was so nervous— why he was so _afraid_. The feeling was so foreign, but clear. The man in front of him seemed menacing in his calm and quiet state, but he was not a threat. He was not meant to be.

'Are you going somewhere? Well?' Christophe repeated, looking deep into the redhead and taking a firm grip on his shoulder. 'With such luggage? Clothes, papers, money, weapons, passports? By the sound and weight of it, am I wrong?'

'Tophe, I—'

'Did Gregory give you an holiday? You wouldn't need all those for a short trip, would you? A change of clothes would be fine. One passport would be enough, _if_ you're going overseas. You wouldn't need your weapons, I'll come and protect you—'

'No! Christophe—'

'And this…' Christophe raised Kyle's hand holding onto the old photograph by the wrist. 'You would _definitely_, not need this.'

'Christophe!' Kyle called loudly, turning the brunet silent. The fear had suddenly turned into sadness and it hurt; yet then again, maybe the fear was toward sadness all along. 'Christophe, I'm going away. And you're not coming with me. I'm going alone. I'm leaving.' He sighed with weight. 'I'm sorry.'

With that one phrase, Kyle leaned down to pick his bag from off the ground. But as Kyle's arm moved in his grip, consciousness flashed back in Christophe's eyes. A second hand flew to Kyle's other arm, securing Kyle straight in front of him inside his murderous grip.

'You can't leave.'

'I have to!'

'No! I won't let you.'

The photograph fell to the ground and Kyle's face collapsed in painful sorrow and sympathy. He couldn't say a word as Christophe's grip loosened on his arms and instead gently pulled his chin up. But Kyle shrugged his face away from the kiss.

'I have to go—'

'Why!' Christophe demanded again in pain. 'Why are you saying this!'

'Because I have to go—'

'Why do you have to go!'

'I don't— I have to!'

'Why!'

'Because I want to!'

Kyle's words had turned to sudden concrete, burning with the truth. It made Christophe quiet.

'Why would you want to?'

The question made Kyle look away, which made his eyes catch the window. The darkness of the black-indigo was disturbed by the lights of the streets and distant buildings, but the orange glows reminded Kyle of the person waiting for him outside.

'Because I want to be with him.'

'Who?'

The muscles in Kyle's face began to firm as his eyes and cheeks flushed from a hot sensation growing in his eyes. He didn't want to cry, not now, not in front of Christophe, not in front of himself. He didn't want to admit it, say it. He didn't want to speak any more, but also, he didn't want to runaway. So he looked straight into Christophe's eyes, even if it caused a tear to fall down his cheek.

'Kenny McCormick.'

Christophe's eyes grew wide.

'McCormick…? He's not dead? You didn't kill him?' Then Kyle's words began to sink deep into his mind, putting together the pieces to realisation. 'You haven't killed him, you can't, because you want him alive so you can be with him?'

Silence followed. Memories of the past few months began to flash through Kyle's head: his agonising confusions, Gregory's words, the blood, and then Kenny's presence.

'Yes.'

All emotions burnt out in Christophe's eyes and he dropped his head, hanging it down, hiding his face behind a shadow. Kyle watched carefully, cautiously, until Christophe's head tilted back up, showing his eyes now, burning with anger.

Kyle's mind couldn't process the threat until his wrist was caught in a tight grip, and Christophe flung him around mercilessly, bashing Kyle's back onto the mattress and caging him with his arms.

'Don't lie to me!' Christophe hissed, and then pressed their lips together.

Such familiar hands, the feel of its touch: it made Kyle's body stop its struggle in reflexive resignation, as it always did when he felt Christophe touch him. His hand had slipped underneath his shirt and was taking his skin. Along with his body, his mind had frozen too, on the verge to submit himself into salvaging numbness.

But something was wrong. The unmistakeable whisper grabbed hold onto Kyle with a firm grasp and hoisted him out of his trance, waking him up into the reality of Christophe having his skin in his hands. He found out what was wrong. _This_ was wrong.

'Stop.' Kyle kicked the mattress, dragging himself away from Christophe's touch. 'Stop this.'

And he did. With Kyle's un-powerful protest, Christophe paused, staring at Kyle with confusion and awe. Kyle sat up slightly, straightening his shirt back down his torso. He couldn't look at Christophe, to see the shock and hurt in it. But he knew it was there.

'Why?' Christophe asked, and Kyle's eyes slightly thinned.

_Why_? Kyle raged inside himself, alone and coldly. _Why_, why, fucking WHY!

'Because it's wrong.' Kyle sat up onto his knees, looking down on the brunet staring up at him without blinking. His answer was calm, quiet, trying not to hurt something very fragile in front of him. 'It always has been.'

But he wasn't gentle enough. No matter how caring and tender his voice was, his words were merciless. They cut deep, and shattered everything in its away, until he was facing two blazing eyes.

'No.'

Firm hands grabbed at his wrist and arm, and Kyle's first instincts were to twist his body against it, to slither free with his trained defensive skills. But his movements were blocked by a quicker and sharper twist, twirling Kyle's body around until his joints were tangled and restrained in a bundle of pain, locked underneath Christophe on the mattress with his arm glued to his back. And it was done with such ease. It was as if Christophe knew all of Kyle's movements before they even happened, knew their speed, their strength, and knew the path to take to slide past them. And of course that was the case. Who was it, after all, that had taught Kyle all he knew about self-defence? How to move his body? It was none other than the man restraining him now, none other than Christophe.

'No, you're wrong.' Christophe's repeated as he breathed heavily on top of Kyle, hot breath burning the back of Kyle's neck. 'This is right.'

While one hand kept its lock on Kyle's arm behind his back, the other slid in front, in between Kyle and the mattress, in between his skin and his pants, and slid down. He was reaching him. Kyle could feel the rough fingers trailing his hairs and shaft, going further down. He wasn't erect, not even mildly aroused, but as the fingers continued, sliding down his head and cupping his balls, he feared and hated that he would. He didn't want to. For the first time he felt disgusted and ashamed of the idea of giving himself and his lust to Christophe. After the countless times that he had, he felt a selfish fear towards the incomprehensible and foreign act and feeling.

'Christophe, don't.' Kyle wriggled, trying to edge away from the lustful fingers. It did nothing. He bit down, tensed his buttocks and arched his back to press his hips deep into the mattress, squeezing Christophe's hands so tight that they couldn't move. Like wounded hyenas giving up on prey, they slid out from between Kyle and the mattress, letting Kyle sigh and relax in relief.

But the air had barely left his lips when he was swang up by the arm on his back and pushed into the wall by his temple and chest. He chocked in pain, which quickly turned into a gasp. He felt warm slime on the back of his neck, and then a quick pain of blood being sucked to the one area underneath his ear. He cringed, and then he felt the friction against his arse. His hair tangled against the wall, skin burnt on his cheek and forehead with every push from Christophe.

The grinding of his eyebrow into the wall made Kyle's eyesight blur, and it made Kyle's brain follow into its fuzziness. As the pain of hurt and pleasure attacked his body, he began to wonder. What was he doing, where was he and why. And then he remembered, like hearing the name of an ancient friend, that he was running away. He was running away, and he had come to get his stuff. He was hurrying, because Kenny was waiting for him outside. Kenny had promised to come with him. He promised to be with him until the end. And then, he began to wonder about the shaking. It was coming through his knees, through his forehead against the wall, but it was not from the thrusting. It was much more subtle, and hollow. And it was becoming faster, and louder. Like footsteps becoming closer. Kyle smiled at the thought, and then shut his eyes as if to fall asleep.

But a loud, fierce _bang_, flung his eyes open wide at the familiar sound, the sound of his bedroom door being slammed open. Without even looking, he knew who it was, and from the pausing of all movements, he knew Christophe knew as well. The brunet wasn't expecting it, no, but there could only be one person who would open a door with such panicked care.

'Kenny…' the name whispered out of Kyle's mouth as he tried to scrape his face off the wall. Kyle could almost feel the horror leaking out of Kenny's eyes. The blond was silent for a frozen moment, until he heard his first step into the room.

'Get the fuck off of him!'

Christophe's hands slid away from Kyle, letting the redhead crash to the mattress as he clasped at his aching arm now free. The brunet jumped to his feet as Kenny lunged at him with his muscles tensed and fist clenched, but he was even slower than Kyle. Christophe stepped away from the blond's unprofessional movements, letting Kenny catch air and straggle for his balance. And after that it was all too quick. Christophe leaned down and scooped Kyle's photo frame into his hand as he rose back up, and with that movement Kyle knew what he was thinking. Kyle's mouth opened in urgency as Kenny finally found his balance and planted his feet into the ground to turn around back to Christophe. It was too late: Kyle's voice hadn't even reached his tongue when the photo frame speared into Kenny's head. Spits of blood sprayed across the room.

It was as if he had been deaf, and suddenly sound returned to his ears with the _thud_ of Kenny's body hitting the floor. Blood quietly assembled to the corner of the photo frame in Christophe's hand, and dripped to the ground as droplets of red. Kenny was lying on the ground. His greasy strands of blond hair was loosening in the blood trickling down his forehead and unblinking eyes to gather on the floor as a pool. He wasn't moving, and neither was Kyle, but from a completely different reason.

The next breath Kyle took was a strong shock that brought him to a painful consciousness. He stopped breathing again, and he didn't say a word as he jumped to the floor and scrambled his way towards the lying Kenny. His hands weren't hesitant as they touched the familiar body, but they still shook as they touched Kenny's skin. Although Kenny was still warm and soft, he seemed cold and hard compared to his own living skin.

'Mission complete.' Kyle's jolted at Christophe's emotionless voice. 'I don't know why it had been such a challenge to you. It only takes a single blow.'

A heavy thud made Kyle look back from Kenny's dead face, to the photograph that had fallen to the ground from Christophe's hand. There was blood stained on its top-right corner, red splattering across the cracked glass just above the smiling children.

'We need to get rid of the body. I'll bury him in the mountains.'

Kyle's hand drew away from Kenny's skin, and the left and right fingers entwined together on his lap as he hung his head low. It was over now, before it even began. Kyle looked up, and reached out for the broken photo frame before getting up to his feet.

'I'm coming with you.'

.

Kyle didn't say a single word as they drove to what would become Kenny's grave. He simply sat, staring out of the cold window as his hands held tightly onto the photograph, fingers caressing the cracked glass. Once again, the first time in what seemed forever, Kyle's mind was blank, absent of any thoughts or feelings. At least, that is what he pretended to be.

The car rocked as it drove through the woods of the mountain entrance, making Kyle hit his head against the window, but he didn't even flinch. The mountain surrounded the city, so living on the edge of town meant only a short trip to the mountain's forest. The body in the trunk wouldn't have even begun to stiffen before they arrived at the would-be grave.

The car stopped and Christophe hopped out without a word, his heavy boots hitting dirt aggressively as he did. But Kyle didn't move, not until he saw the human-sized rubbish bag rocking on Christophe's shoulder. He hopped out himself with his photograph still in hand, and followed quietly.

Kyle sat beside the wrapped body, watching Christophe continue to dig almost too-skilfully with his beloved shovel. The redhead didn't bring himself to help dig the grave, but instead he had made a small cross with twigs to place on it, now waiting beside him. But the waiting wasn't too long. In barely half an hour, the brunet had dug the hole. It was not too deep, not too rectangular, but enough to comfortably cover any body to be buried in there.

'I'll hold the shoulders,' Kyle announced softly, making sure Christophe didn't throw the body into the hole or dragged him in there disrespectfully. The body finally hit the pit of the hole, and carefully Kyle slid the heavy weight of death through his fingers and placed the head gently on the ground.

Even after Christophe had jumped out of the hole, Kyle was still looking down at the head covered in black plastic. The brunet had lit a cigarette, letting him draw out a deep breath as he observed the redhead unmoving.

'Come on. Kyle. We need to bury him.'

Without a word or a nod, Kyle stood up. Christophe watched without saying anything as Kyle stepped out of the hole and moved across to pick up the photograph lying on the ground. Still expressionless and quiet, Kyle returned to the hole and slid in.

'You gave this to me but, I think you'd rather not go empty-handed.' Kyle murmured to the dead. He stood there for a second staring down at the black plastic, and then leaned down, and ripped it open from the head to the stomach. A still face appeared; icy blue orbs were now locked behind the eyelids that Kyle had closed for him. Firmly, Kyle took Kenny's cold hand into his own and pulled it from his side to his belly, and placed the photo frame tightly in his unmoving grip. He did the same with the other.

When Kyle jumped out of the hole for the last time, the photograph was firmly held by Kenny's pale hands, his face so peaceful, content with the one thing he had. Kyle looked back, just for one more glance, and at that second, soil was spat over Kenny's face. Dirt continued to pile in, not stopped until he was completely covered, becoming one with the earth.

'Let's go.' Christophe turned around once the ground was hard and flat over the hole. He didn't seem to want to meet Kyle's eyes.

'No. I want to stay here a little longer.'

'I'll wait in the car then.'

'No—' Kyle's voice sparked, before it returned back to its quiet state. 'You go back home. I'll make it back alone.'

Christophe chewed on his cigarette, then turned his back and left as he was told. It was only once the sound of footsteps disappeared into the distance that Kyle finally let out his painful strength and collapsed his knees to the ground.

Oh Kenny. Kenny, Kenny, Kenny. To think that the blond had died trying to save him, again. He had made it out the first time, but no, it seemed that even Kenny, who Kyle could not seem to kill no matter what, could not help Kyle a second time without paying the ultimate price. And now he was becoming food for the maggots. Never to laugh again, cook again, sing again; never to save Kyle ever again.

The small, hand-made cross was placed on the dirt of which Kenny lay underneath. And without being able to say a single prayer, Kyle sat back beside the grave, brought his thighs to his chest and leaned his face to his knees along with his elbows, his fingers entwined and locked above his head.


	12. Chapter 12

**A.N- Hello! Sorry for the long wait. I have not been able to write recently because of excuses. **

**But I had to update today because it's a certain redhead's birthday.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoy~**

* * *

_Chapter Twelve: Ignorance is Bliss_

If emotion was water, then for far too long Kyle had been suffering a deadly drought. But now it was raining, the fountain was overflowing, and there was no ark to save him from drowning. Time had passed and the sun was now fairly high in the sky, yet the heavy clouds did not show a sign of it. For hours nothing had moved; Kyle didn't even notice himself blink as he stared at the fresh grave. The redhead did not care to wonder whether his friends were worried about him, in fact, he didn't wonder about anything.

It was now raining, not metaphorically, but the drops of water were so isolated that one would hardly notice. Kyle, still hugging his knees in a ball, certainly didn't respond to the gentle mists of water. But the sound of droplets hitting and sinking into soil finally reached his ears in the background when another sound entered him.

They were footsteps, rubber soles sinking into dampening ground, and they became louder and louder simultaneously with the sound of the rain. It was strange because the rain was not becoming heavier, but still Kyle did not respond to it. He simply sank everything in unquestioningly, even the hand that came onto his shoulder.

'You'll get sick, sitting like that in the rain.' Kyle didn't look back at the voice, but raised his hand to his shoulder and held the fingers resting there. 'What's wrong?'

'I thought you had gone.'

'Forever? Is that why you're sitting in the rain?'

'Yeah.'

The hand tensed in Kyle's hold, before it gently flipped and gripped Kyle's hand right back. Keeping their hands connected, Kyle pulled his face away from his knees and looked up at the person standing behind him.

'Where did you go, Kenny?' The blond's weak smile tensed, and his own question made Kyle's eyes widen. He jumped to his feet, disconnecting their hands as he did. 'Why are you here? How did you know I was here?'

Kenny's eyes drifted slightly, from Kyle's burning emeralds to the fresh soil covered on the ground in a long rectangle. Still without a word, Kenny leaned down and took the cross made from twigs from the ground into his hand.

'You were mourning…' The cross did a small twirl in Kenny's hand before the blond looked away from it and back to Kyle's eyes. The straightness of his gaze made the glimmer hesitate in Kyle's. 'Do you know who's buried under here?'

Kyle's lips parted: Yes, it's—

Kyle blinked and his lips shut firmly. What was he about to say? A soft shudder shook his organs, taking the colour away from his cheeks. He was about to say, _Yes_. It's Kenny's grave, you are buried under there. But how was that possible? It wasn't, because Kenny was standing right in front of him. What madness! Kyle dropped his paled expression and shook his head instead.

'No. I don't. It's strange though… I thought I knew a moment ago.'

There was no habitual smile on Kenny's mouth.

'Well. I do.'

The words hardly processed through Kyle's mind before the blond leaned down, pressed his knees into the damp ground and to Kyle's shock, began to dig up the soil of the grave. Kyle could only watch in silence, frozen, as Kenny's long fingers dug mercilessly into the ground, not caring about the dirt staining his hands and digging into his nails. It wasn't a deep grave, which was one of the only things Kyle could remember about it, but the time Kenny spent digging seemed too long and painful, until he stopped, suddenly.

Kenny's body tensed for a quiet second and Kyle knew he had reached something. But when Kenny leaned back up with what he found in his hands, Kyle couldn't believe his eyes.

'That's the photograph you gave me. But why is that—' The photo frame in Kenny's hands were covered in the dirt it was buried in, but it trickled away to reveal cracked glass and brown stains, like blood, on its corner. Yet all the boys were still smiling. Kyle was not conscious of having a memory of why the photograph was buried in the grave, but somehow, he knew as a fact: 'I put that there. I buried that with the body…'

Kenny's fingers lightly squeezed the dirty photograph, before he lied it on the ground and continued to dig the grave deeper still without a word. The next thing that was found, Kyle saw it peeking out of the soil before Kenny completely reached it. It was black and shiny, and light. It was a plastic bag, a large rubbish bag, ripped, with tape stack to it. It was long, as if two big bags were stitched together, and it took a while until Kenny had finally dug it up.

It was empty. Just a long, empty rubbish bag, big enough to wrap a person. The tape that was wrapped around it in different areas, some tight, some loose, made the empty bag look as if it had been holding a human body. But there was no one.

'What the hell…' Kyle stood up and jumped to the dug-up grave to look inside, but there was nothing there. No body. 'How— how can that be? Where's the body? There was definitely someone buried here last night, I know, I was there, mourning. I was sitting beside this grave all night watching— No one? Just an empty rubbish bag and the photograph? There was no one buried?'

It didn't make sense. Yet, what did nowadays? It seemed as if nothing had made sense in such a long time. Not for months.

'There _was_ someone buried—'

'Who!' Kyle shouted, feeling raging frustration towards Kenny's collected and calm tone for such a confusing and mind-tearing situation. But as he met Kenny's icy-blue eyes, the heat began to leave him. 'You said that you knew who was buried here. But there is _no one_, just empty bags that _seem_ as if someone was buried here. But no one had come out of the grave since it was made, I know, I was here!'

The small whisper of a smile had returned to Kenny's mouth, but the warmness in his eyes, maybe because of the rain, seemed darker and damp.

'It was me.' Kenny's words were still calm. 'I was buried here last night.'

Kyle's eyes were blazing. His face was tensed, his whole head was, making his hair seem to rise on his scalp.

'Don't you fucking joke with me Kenny. Not now…'

'I'm not.'

'Then why would you say that!' Kyle's voice cracked as he yelled. His eyes were beginning to burn, red and glistening. 'The person buried here was dead, Kenny, _dead_! Which you are fucking not!'

'I was. I was murdered last night.'

The heat exploded in Kyle's eyes and he raised his fist to strike the blond on the cheek. A fierce sound shocked the rain, but Kenny didn't make a single cry of pain. His eyes returned to Kyle, and although his swollen lips had lost their smile, his eyes still held the same gentle sadness. It made the fire burn out in Kyle's eyes and his muscles relax in shock at Kenny's acceptance of pain. He was serious. Kenny was dead serious.

'Do you remember what happened last night? About the person in the grave and how he may have died?'

Kyle shook his head weakly.

'I, somehow, _did_ think it was you for a second. I think I was, sad, because I thought you were dead. But then that was all wrong, because you appeared behind me just then, alive.'

'So you have no clear memory then? Of last night?'

Kyle shook his head again. The idea of him having amnesia was at first, horrifying. But at the same time, it wasn't his first time. In fact, over the past few months it had happened quite a few times. It had caused an ugly knot of confusion and fear in Kyle for a while now, and Kyle had tried to analyse it with some suggestions from Gregory, but in the end Kyle had began to ignore it rather than to solve it.

'And it's not the first time, is it? That you lost your memory?' Kyle shot his head up, his eyes again piercing into Kenny. 'It has happened quite a few times, but not for long, only the past few months. You keep on losing parts of your memory from the previous night in the morning, and always, always, when you're sure that something certain has happened?'

Kenny's careful and gentle voice made words that stirred Kyle with fear, and even anger. Yet his words were slow to react; they were quiet, clear, and suspicious.

'How could you possibly know that?'

Kenny's eyes looked down, but the next time he blinked, they were back meeting Kyle's again.

'Because I never lost my memory.' Kyle squinted in confusion, and then he felt a sharp pain in his head that made him skip a breath. It was gone the next second, and Kenny continued. 'I remember the first time we met and how we parted in the alleyway. The second time, you burnt your leg, and then we went for coffee before you left. I remember the third time, it was brief, you called me to meet you in a secluded street. And after that, for a month or so, you didn't even answer my messages. Yet you must have seen me, on the streets and so on, without even a "hello". But then you called me, and we went out for dinner. Our first date. It couldn't have ended more disastrous, but the next day you came to my apartment and—'

'Had sex.' Kyle finished for him, matter-of-factly. And as he did, he looked at the palm of his left hand. He didn't know why, but he felt immense sorrow for the tingling warmth on his skin that he could not make out. Kenny watched him in silence before he continued.

'Later, I invited you over to make bread together. It was ready the next day, and we both agreed that you needed more practice… And then yesterday, we decided to runaway together, without saying anything to anyone. We went to get your stuff, I waited outside, but then you were taking far too long so I went up to get you. And then—' The rain was weak, not enough to drench them, but Kyle's head was beginning to throb, and worse the more Kenny talked; it was probably from his dampened clothes. The morning mist was beginning to clear around them and the trees. Kyle waited eagerly and anxiously for the rest of Kenny's words. He was only reciting what had happened last night, but strange, Kyle did not know how it ended. Then Kenny finally finished, 'These are the days that you don't remember how they finished. How we parted and said good bye.'

'And you do?'

Kenny nodded.

'I always do, even when nobody else does. They all end the same way.' So then, what happened? The question grasped Kyle so strongly that it ached. But as Kenny opened his mouth again, all he wanted to do was close his ears and scream to not hear the final punch line: '…I died.'

The words didn't echo in his head. It was just one single blow with a dim ring that was enough to finish him off. It was an impossible answer to all the riddles, ridiculous, even. But somehow, Kyle could not deny it, could not accuse it as a lie, because it made sense. His head now felt as if it were going to split and tear apart, pumping pain and frying his brain, but he didn't make a sound; he felt clarity. There were flashes in his head that seemed like images, like random missing pieces of a puzzle falling from the sky. He saw a dark alleyway, and a flower blooming in what seemed to be bloody blond hair. He saw fumes, and then a take-away coffee cup on the ground. Gun shots echoed in his head, a candle light and Kenny's smile. Even after the images disappeared, they did not disappear from his memory.

But they were still just fragments, not even close to show the whole picture.

'So, you're immortal?' Kyle finally murmured with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 'That's impossible…'

'You're more impossible.' Kenny chuckled quietly. 'In what world does such a sexy assassin exist?'

Kyle flinched at the word "assassin".

'How do you know that I'm an assassin?'

'Well, you killed me almost thirty times. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.'

Kyle scoffed with disgust, then clasped his head frustratingly. He wanted to deny it as his rational brain screamed so, accuse Kenny of being a liar and curse him for making jokes while he was in a seriously distraught state. But he didn't feel as bad as he could have been, no. He already felt better than he did an hour ago, when he was still alone with the grave.

Kenny's smile disappeared as he watched Kyle hold his head as if in agony, and Kenny didn't doubt that what he said was causing him pain. Frowning, Kenny took Kyle's shielding arms into his own, making Kyle look up and meet his gaze. They were burning, glistening, but they did not dare to shed any tears. His frown tightened, and Kenny wrapped his arms around Kyle's back and brought him into his chest.

Kyle froze; he didn't know what to do. The sudden warmth was immensely comforting, but at the same time he wanted to push the blond clown away from him. So his body took over, and his muscles tensed to push the blond away.

'Kyle.'

He stopped. Kenny's quiet voice was powerful. But more than that, it was the name that it formed and reached the redhead's ears that petrified him. The hands began to strengthen around his tensed body almost mercilessly, not forgiving resistance.

'I know this is hard to believe, and I can't prove it by maths or science, logic. But there's one thing I'll like to ask you.' The arms slowly began to release Kyle, only enough so that they could meet each other's eyes. Icy-blues grasped him, and they did not quiver. 'What is the number on my chest?'

'What—'

'The number, on my chest. You have seen it a few times, right here. Do you remember what number it was?'

Kyle blinked rapidly a few times as he digested Kenny's words and searched his mind. He looked through his memories, and saw Kenny's bare chest.

'It was… _six_.' _A pill, a can of cola, their connected hands breaking away as Kenny's fell lifelessly into the sheets._ 'No… it wasn't, it was _five_—' _Kenny's apartment window, freshly baked bread, a knife, an apology._

'_Four_.' Kyle was breathing heavily. Each word sent more images flashing into his head like a chain reaction, like lightening. 'It was _four_.'

Kyle stared into Kenny's eyes daring, pleading, not for him to say anything, not to deny his answer. Because he was right, wasn't he? But then Kyle's eyes drifted down to Kenny's hands. They were on the hem of his shirt, and then, they began to pull the shirt up.

Kyle was looking at the number on Kenny's chest. Etched roughly, yet cleanly into his skin: a blazing red _three_.

'Three…' Kyle murmured, and then grimaced, his eyes shutting for a quick second. _A dark apartment and his bag, Christophe, anger and hands, Kenny's yell ringing out, the old photograph, and blood._

The shirt slid back down, and Kyle resigned to the ripples shaking his memory. One by one, lost sounds, smells, tastes and visions were returning back to him. And as they did, Kyle realised that the emotions were the only thing that did not return to him, because somehow, they had never left. Maybe that was why nothing made sense, why he was so distraught, because while the memories left him, he had no explanation for the feelings that were whirling inside him still attached to the lost moments. But now they were beginning to return, everything was beginning to make sense, and Kyle wished that he had never remembered them. The knowledge was agonising.

'Come on.' Kenny's voice brought Kyle out of his darkened thoughts and back into the light air. 'Let's get out of the rain.'

When the doors of Kenny's car closed, Kyle noticed the warm air that wrapped around them, and realised how wet his clothes actually were. He looked to the side and saw that Kenny had brought along the small, hand-made cross Kyle had made for his grave. And then he looked down, to the photograph firmly gripped in his hands. His hands were cold, tensed and numb around the bloody photo frame. He stared and acknowledged, but could barely move his fingers; they were bony, and so horribly white.

'I wasn't always so pale.' Kyle murmured with his eyes still glued to the icy skin. It was ironical how it was Kenny, driving his car out of the parking lot to the forest, who had suffered death only a few hours ago, yet it was Kyle who looked like the walking dead. He didn't find it humorous though. 'I always had white skin, but it used to be lit up from the hot blood pumping enthusiastically underneath. The sunlight made it glow like it would any normal person, but now I'm semi-nocturnal with my nights and days jumbled up, and the moonlight doesn't have the same effect as the sun.'

Kenny didn't say anything, but quietly tried to digest Kyle's words and their meanings. The redhead shifted, holding one hand up in the air as if to cast it under the light to show every detail.

'And I didn't used to be just bone and skin. I liked food, and the energy it gave me to move and think. I wasn't big, but I had enough muscle and meat to make my parents worry-less. But now, I don't like moving, and thinking is torture. My movements are swift and strong, only so that I can end it instantaneously. My stomach can no longer hold the same amount of food before it makes me sick, and the meat and muscle is now barely visible.'

The rest of the journey was in silence. Kenny was aching to say something, to voice out the thoughts and questions that were overflowing and threatening to burst from the inside-out. But he didn't know where to start. In the end he used driving as an excuse not to say _anything_.

Neither of them came to an agreement of where to go, but they both somehow assumed that they were going to Kenny's house. Where else would they have gone?

With a calm, yet firm demand, Kyle managed to make Kenny stop at his own apartment. The blond was hesitant about the favour, but the redhead's silence seemed to leave no room for a discussion. The minute or so that Kyle left alone to his apartment was so worrying to Kenny that he wanted to burst in after him. So when Kyle returned with his bag, Kenny let out a long breath of relief.

'Was no one home?'

'Christophe wasn't. The one who hit you.'

Kenny seemed satisfied with the answer and left it as that. Christophe wasn't home, that was true, but that didn't mean that nobody was home. Gregory was there, sitting behind his desk as he usually did. He seemed startled with Kyle's frisk and firm footsteps as he entered the room but managed to greet him, and said nothing as Kyle left the room with his bag and the same thumping footsteps.

With his bag now in hand and Kenny beside him, Kyle wanted to run away, now. But he kept the urge inside himself. They still had a little time, and before they could do anything, they still had to talk. There were still a few things Kyle had to ask and say.

When the front door shut behind them and they were secured inside Kenny's apartment, alone, it suddenly felt a little easier to breathe and the air seemed lighter. They peeled their wet clothes off and took a shower, not sharing any words or even glances. Kyle kept his back on Kenny as they showered while Kenny watched his quiet state. But Kyle's eyes did glance towards him: to the number on his chest.

Kyle dressed in a shirt and jeans that he had brought in his bag, and then when he let out a small sneeze, Kenny handed him an orange sweatshirt. The sweatshirt lied in Kyle's hands for a moment while he stared at it. He blinked when he heard Kenny's soft chuckle, and then pulled it over his head. It was thick and large enough so that Kyle to snuggle into it like a sack. It warmed him up almost instantly, and the smell, it was Kenny.

'Nostalgic, isn't it? It's not the same one as what I wore when I was small, but you can never separate me from an orange hoodie.'

Kyle smiled, sinking in the feeling of sweet sorrow. Orange had always been Kenny's iconic colour, since they were even toddlers probably. But the fact that Kenny would say that to _him_ had made him feel uncomfortable.

'Kenny.' The blond blinked. 'Kenny McCormick.'

'That's my name.'

'What's _my_ name then?'

Kenny's smile tensed for a second before he opened his mouth.

'Scarlet.'

'Really?'

Kyle's smile was resigned, as if he were all tired, sad and happy at the same time, and didn't believe in Kenny's words. It made the blond's smile drop as he himself gave up.

'Kyle Broflovski.'

Kyle looked down, nodding. He knew it, but to hear it properly, intentionally come out of Kenny's mouth left him no room for denial.

'How long have you known?'

'Oh, come on. How often is it that you come across such a pretty daywalker?' Kyle smirked humourlessly, and Kenny knew that his own words lacked it too. He sighed quietly before he continued. 'The first time I met you, well, the first time I met "Scar", "Kyle Broflovski" was immediately in my head. But unlike Stan, it evaporated the second I met your eyes. They were empty, and I couldn't see a thing the way I was able to seven years ago. The fact that you kept on killing me without hesitation didn't help.'

Kyle shook his head subtly, while on the other hand, Kenny's smile returned as he traced back the newer memories of the past few months.

'But as you became more desperate to kill me, you became closer. We interacted more, which seemed like new experience to you. It made you open up, slowly, but you did. And I could see you more and more. I could see "Kyle".'

'Why didn't you contact the police, though? Tell Stan that I was trying to kill you?'

'I didn't want to lock you up. And I have enough lives to spare. I wanted to know why you were doing what you were doing.' Kyle's eyes lowered slightly with dissatisfaction of the answer, and Kenny's eyes warmed as he watched. 'That, and love at first sight.'

The blond held in the urge to chuckle as he watched Kyle's warming face tense up, knowing that he was hiding his embarrassment. Silence entered the room as the warmth subsided between them. Habitually, Kenny wondered if he should turn on the light, but then thought that it would be too bright for them now.

'Why did you lie to me then?' Kyle finally broke the silence.

'Would you have believed me if I told you that I don't die? Besides, you were lying to me too. That makes us equal. Sort of.'

Kyle nodded, and then a short silence continued.

'Why can't you die?'

'Well, I will. I mean, I do die quite often, especially after you started hunting my ass. I just… Come back.'

Kyle couldn't believe it. He did, but, he couldn't. He never believed in the supernatural, and to now be experiencing it.

'So you're immortal? You will never die?'

Kenny shrugged with a lop-sided grin and rose his shirt above his chest. The red number _three_ on beige skin was burning to Kyle's eyes. His lungs stopped for a second until the shirt dropped back down.

'Probably not never. Probably, someday I'll die and stay dead. Someday, when that number reaches _zero_.'

'That's still two more than the average person.'

Slight warmth returned back to them, and then they met each other's eyes, and smiled.

'Do you wanna go now?'

Kyle's eyes widened.

'You still want to come with me?'

'If you're still going, I'll follow you.'

'You still don't even know why I was trying to kill you, whether or not I'll still be killing you.'

'After last night, I'm guessing that you're somehow working with that guy who killed me with the photo frame. And as for the latter,' Kyle tensed as he waited for the answer, 'I just hope you don't.'

It was a gentle blow, like a gash of wind blowing the weight off his shoulders. He watched dumb-founded as Kenny stood up with a reassuring smile, and followed him onto his feet.

'You ready?'

.

Gregory didn't seem to care for Christophe's flustered state as he casually made himself a cup of earl grey. The Frenchman had come back home after calming himself down to find that Kyle had not yet come back home. He had run down the stairs with quick breaths to find Gregory in the tiny kitchen.

'Actually, I did see him this morning.' Gregory answered after giving Christophe's question a second thought. 'Only for a second though. I don't know what was wrong with him but he didn't even say "good morning". He left quickly.'

'Well? Do you know where he went?'

Christophe's feverish state was beginning to irritate Gregory, as he usually did when the brunet was worried about Kyle. It wasn't jealousy, it was the fact that Christophe became blind to everything else once his mind had caught a concern about Kyle. He became impatient, emotional and even irrational, which the professional mercenary would normally never become. And how was he supposed to solve _anything_ in such a state?

'How the fuck would I know, Christophe? He came home, grabbed a bag from his bedroom, and left without saying a bloody word.'

To Gregory's surprise, the colour in Christophe's face changed with what he said. He didn't know what exactly triggered him, but he thought it might have come from the mention of a bag.

Without an explanation, Christophe bolted. Gregory called after him, but with a cup of tea now ready in his hands, he chose not to follow him. He heard Christophe's car start up and drive away in the distance, and the blond let out a heavy sigh.

.

Kyle picked up his bag, and a natural smile rested on his lips as Kenny wrapped his arm around him and pulled him towards the door.

'He was my friend you know, the guy that I work with. And there was another. My two dearest guardians.' He wasn't hesitating, just voicing out his guilt. It was amazing how letting it out as if to buy sympathy didn't make him hate himself. Maybe it was because of the firmness of Kenny's grip.

The clouds were dark and heavy now and the rain had begun to strengthen. Just a few minutes would have been enough to drench their clothes, so the two grasped each other's hands tightly before heading off to Kenny's car around the corner. The old brick buildings seemed like they towered in, making the alleyway seem more like a tunnel. And Kyle looked up against the rain to see the end of it.

Kyle blinked and his eyes narrowed. He could see a shadow, no, a human, standing at the corner and looking at them. For a second he seemed like he wasn't moving, until he began to move their way. Kyle's feet naturally stopped in suspicion, bringing Kenny to a halt as well. The blond frowned, but then followed Kyle's gaze and looked ahead.

'Who's that?'

The person's pace began to quicken and he dug his hand inside his coat, and then with a burst of a heartbeat, Kyle knew who it was.

'No!' Kyle called, pushing Kenny behind him. He dug into the pocket of his coat, grasped his small revolver, and pointed at the man coming towards them, just as the man drew out his own hand and pointed a gun at them.

Their eyes locked, and so did the points of their guns. For a second they were both still as a photograph.

'Christophe, drop the gun…' Kyle said carefully and steadily. But his words had no influence, so he cocked the hammer back as a warning. '…I don't want to shoot you.'

Christophe stared in hurtful disbelief.

'You would shoot me? To protect _him_?'

Watching Christophe carefully walk around in a circle, still with their gun points connected, Kyle nodded. The single movement of the head stopped Christophe in his steps, and his gunpoint slightly lowered as the tension flowed away from his guarded posture.

'Is that how much he means to you?'

Through the corner of his eye, Kyle caught a glimpse of Kenny. Even though Kyle was the one at gunpoint, he knew that Kenny wasn't oblivious of the fact that he was the most in danger of Christophe's wrath. But the blond was still locking his eyes on him, forgetting about himself and worrying about the redhead who had killed him almost thirty times. Despite everything, Kyle felt a small warmth in his chest, and then turned his eyes back to Christophe, more firmly than before.

'He means everything.'

The air seemed lighter after that word. It was still electricity to his skin, but it just seemed a little clearer and easier in his lungs. He knew Kenny felt the same way, and for a second that was all that mattered.

Christophe looked down, nodding, bringing his shoulders and gun down with it. Kyle's breathing deepened in relief as he watched Christophe's tension flow away. Was this it? Was this finally the light of the tunnel?

Cold, hazel eyes looked up murderously. Kyle's smile froze and the gun in his hand tensed, still pointing at Christophe. And then his whole body felt as if it set fire as Christophe raised his gunpoint swiftly at Kenny.

'No!'

Two shots rang through the damp, heavy air.


	13. Chapter 13

_Chapter Thirteen: Preparing for the Last Journey _

Two shots rang through the damp, heavy air. Two bullets shot through two bodies, one each. Even as his finger lingered on the trigger, Kyle stood shaking. He was looking at the body lying in front of him, rain trickling blood along the cracks of the stoned ground like a river. Kyle's lips quivered, trying to form a name on his tongue, but except for the shaking he was completely frozen. Slowly, unblinking, his eyes were drawn to the ground beside him. A few feet away there was another body.

'Kenny…'

His eyes were wide open, but the body did not respond. There was a black hole gaping in his forehead, blood again streaming down the ground with the rain. Kyle's eyes strained in horror as the image of Kenny's corpse burnt in his mind, but he managed not to rush to him. Kenny was dead: killed by Christophe. He could see that. But no matter how horrifying it was now, Kenny would come back to life in the morning, unlike Christophe who he had just shot.

His small revolver fell to the ground with a clack, and as if it were a bell, Kyle kicked the ground and run for his friend that he had sent a bullet into.

'Chris!' Kyle cried, turning the body over in his arms so that he could see his face clearly. The red stains on his chest burnt Kyle's eyes, electrocuting the redhead with the horror of what he had just done. 'Oh, no, Christophe…'

But as Kyle hugged his bloody friend he could hear him moan, a sharp inhale, in pain.

'Kyle—'

'Chris!' Kyle jumped, making the Frenchman hiss again at the movement. 'Shit! Sorry— But you're alive!'

'Yes— Somehow…' Christophe chuckled weakly, or cringed rhythmically to Kyle's eyes. Yet it made a small smile pull Kyle's lips, although it disappeared instantly in despair.

'I shot you…' He whispered. Christophe didn't say anything. 'I need to take you to the hospital—'

'Non!' Christophe exclaimed as Kyle tilted their bodies up. Kyle's eyes stared shockingly at Christophe, but his were viciously narrowed in pain and warning. 'Don't. Take me home. It's only my shoulder…'

'But!'

'I've got worse and mended it myself!' Kyle shook at Christophe's harsh gasps, unable to do as Christophe told him to. But then he felt himself weaken as the tension in Christophe's eyes began to flow away. 'Kyle, please— Take me home…'

Kyle felt hopeless from that soft plea. He leaned up, taking Christophe with him as gently as he could. Despite how strong he showed himself, Kyle saw the sweat on Christophe's face and could tell how much pain he was really in. He had his eyes tightly closed as he leaned on Kyle and breathed shallow breaths. This was all caused by him…

'Hold on a sec.' Kyle whispered, placing Christophe against the brick wall. He jogged back, picking up his revolver and Christophe's pistol from the ground. Most of the blood had already washed away into the gutter, erasing all the evidence except for the one single body.

When Kyle looked back, all the pain and horror swallowed his insides, but he showed nothing of it on his face. Kenny was still lying there with his eyes wide open, being hit by the rain. It was impossible to think that he would wake up again. Kyle ran towards him and quickly shut his eyes. There. Now he was only sleeping, waiting to wake up.

Without a word, Kyle came back to Christophe leaning against the wall and took him back into his arms. Christophe's car was waiting around the corner. Both shots had been quiet (thanks to Christophe's silencer and Kyle's quiet ammunition) and there was yet no one around drawn in by the sound. It was not until Kyle got into the front seat and shut the door behind him that he realised how loud the rain had been. It was quiet now inside the car, which seemed to amplify all the unwanted sounds of pain. Two shots entered two bodies, yet no one was permanently dead. But Kyle couldn't help but feel that something was lost forever. He _knew_ that he had lost something forever.

.

His feet were so heavy he was practically dragging them behind him his way home. It wasn't that way as he left in the morning, but recently it was always that way as he walked home, and he knew it wasn't because of the long day of school or work. He just didn't want to go home. He didn't want to see the face of his roommate-slash-childhood friend, of Kenny, who was now with the one person Stan ached to be with. Stan loved Kyle, and it wasn't as simple as romance or friendship, or maybe it was. Whatever it was, he loved him and longed for him, even over the years of denial as he tried to forget him. It was natural that the pain turned into hate, but now the hate had melted and turned back to pain. Everything was too late now.

It was a short day and Stan expected to be home for a late lunch. He thought of eating out but decided against it once the rain had drenched him from head to toe. All his organs seemed to weigh a ton inside him and the cold rain was not helping. It seemed a mile to turn around the block and slip into the alleyway to his home.

His feet finally came to a halt, but it was unexpected. He thinned his eyes to focus through the rain and onto the ground a few yards from him. Was that a person? Sleeping in the rain? His feet began to walk again, forgetting the weight of his insides and focusing on the figure lying on the ground. As he came closer his thinned eyes began to widen, and he stopped right beside the body, staring into the still face.

'Oh my God—' Stan's body quivered as he grasped the face of the corpse with his eyes. His eyes were closed and one could have easily mistaken him to be asleep, if it weren't for the gaping hole bloody in his forehead. 'Oh my God— Kenny!'

His hate, jealousy, remorse, guilt, all disappeared for the minute he took the dead body of his friend into his arms. He held Kenny deep to his chest, tears already running down his cheeks before his mind could fully grasp reality.

'Holy shit, holy shit— Oh God, Kenny, no!'

His agonising cries were brutally silenced by the rain until his voice gave out and turned to a smaller intimate tone. Not knowing that Kenny still had a couple of lives to spare and that he would wake up again, Stan promised that he would do anything for his friend as long as Kenny would wake up just one more time.

.

'Has he waken up yet?'

Kyle dragged his gaze up to Gregory who had just entered his bedroom with his hands full of two bowls, both resonating steamy air. He looked back down to the man lying on his bed, quiet in the unconscious.

'No…'

'And he probably won't until tomorrow. It's a chance for him to finally get some rest. Here,' Gregory passed Kyle the steal bowl. It was filled with water with a small towel hanging on the rim. 'Wipe him with that. If not out of kindness, then for the smell.'

Kyle took it wordlessly and placed it on the bedside table, and quickly in replacement he was given the other bowl as well. Instead of water there was soup, and instead of a towel there was a spoon resting on the rim.

'Should I wake him up, then?'

'No. That's for you. You look like you're about to die if you don't eat something in ten minutes. And if nature doesn't do it, then I will.'

Hesitantly, Kyle took a spoonful into his mouth, and was soon attacked by a vicious cough. The soup wasn't meant to be boiling, but it seemed to burn his throat. Kyle wiped away the spit and soup off his chin and lips, and feeling Gregory's firm stare on him, reluctantly sipped another spoonful.

'It's good.' Kyle gave a twitched smile to Gregory.

'It's delicious. But frankly, I don't care if it tasted like shit, just finish it. And rest. It's not like the Mole needs your staring to mend his own wound.' And then after watching Kyle take another mouthful of his soup, Gregory turned to leave.

'Wait—' Kyle halted the blond. Sliding his hand off the doorknob, Gregory looked back at Kyle. 'Aren't you gonna accuse me for shooting Christophe?'

Gregory could hear the hurt and weakness in Kyle's voice, the guilt in it that was about to break him. He was both impressed and disappointed that Kyle hadn't broken down and shown his emotions all over, even now keeping it locked in his eyes and voice.

'Kyle— I know that Christophe is a bit obsessed and can be a bit ruthless. I can't blame you that you shot him.' He shrugged lightly. 'I'm just glad that you haven't killed him.'

The sound of the door closing left Kyle alone in his bedroom with the unconscious Christophe. Kyle looked at the brunet, and then cast his soup aside to hold the bowl full of warm water. He carefully pulled away the cover from Christophe's torso, and then tensed at the bandage holding the brunet's shoulder together.

Gregory was quite collected when he saw Kyle dragging the bloody Christophe into the house, or maybe it only seemed that way because he didn't lose himself like Kyle had. He helped Kyle carry Christophe to his bed and lied him down gently, but out of all, he was able to calm the redhead down. The bullet was taken out and the wound was cleaned and stitched. Kyle still suggested to take Christophe to the hospital but Gregory said that that was Christophe's choice to make when he woke up. For now, he was safe.

Kyle took the damp towel and wiped away the sweat from Christophe's body. He paused for a second as Christophe stirred in his sleep, but the movement made him feel a little better. He was asleep. He would wake up. But Kyle didn't know what he would do when he did.

As Gregory had told him to do, Kyle was able to rest, to his surprise. He had fallen asleep beside the bed with the bowl of water still in his hands, waking up to find that the water had cooled and the window darkened. The soup however, had not managed to eat itself to nothing. Feeling heavy, Kyle took the two bowls and left his bedroom. In the kitchen Kyle poured away the cooled water and took another mouthful of the soup; he then threw that away also after some agonising coughs. He returned back to his bedroom with a new bowl of hot water.

'You don't have to…' Christophe's voice murmured as Kyle began to wipe the sweat away from his neck.

'Gregory said you smell.' Kyle whispered back, relief taking his voice away. There was a small trace of a smile on his lips, and Christophe smirked as well.

'I can't be as bad as you look. You have my blood in your hair—' Christophe raised his arm just enough to slide the red strands behind Kyle's ear. Kyle looked down at the movement and let Christophe do as he wished, but his hand didn't draw away. 'I missed your smile…'

Kyle blinked as Christophe's hand fell away, and by the time it dropped back onto the mattress Christophe was back in his sleep. Kyle's hair fell back down from his ear and tickled his eyelashes, yet he merely blinked as Christophe's words sank into his mind.

After finishing wiping Christophe down, Kyle left the room again, and this time, didn't return until he had had a shower. And Christophe was right— There was his blood stained in his hair and even dried under his nails. He couldn't stop staring at them until the water finally washed them away, but he could feel them even as he returned back to his room.

When Kyle got back he cast the chair away and placed himself on the floor. He put his arms on the bed beside Christophe and leaned his head on them to stare into the brunet's sleeping face. He felt hollow again, but he knew that was only because he was feeling too much.

'I owe you everything…' Kyle whispered to the sleeping Christophe. The brunet didn't respond; he simply kept his steady, quiet breathing. Kyle's lips trembled and he grabbed Christophe's right hand into his, holding it tight to his forehead. 'I owe you my life, and— And I almost took yours away from you…'

Kyle's breathing cracked, and he buried his face into the mattress before any tears could fall from his face. He knew that he had lost something forever. He had lost it when he pulled that trigger.

.

He could hear the faint voice of someone calling his voice in his dream, gently over and over again; but it was the sunlight tickling his eyelids that woke him up in the end. The bright light drowned his vision in white, but beyond that he could still hear his name being called.

'Christophe!' Kyle gasped as he finally gained his vision. 'How are you feeling?'

'Fine—' Christophe answered simply, but Kyle noticed something in his eye that made him wonder.

'What?' He asked. 'Did I say something in my sleep?'

'No. Just that you were sorry. I'd like to know why, though.'

Kyle frowned in confusion, and then Christophe's bandages caught his eye.

'Because I shot you— isn't that obvious?'

Christophe nodded, but didn't say anything more. Kyle asked if Christophe wanted to eat anything, but the brunet declined. Kyle was about to protest against this, but Christophe assured that he would eat a whole cow later. They were left back in silence as Christophe sat up in Kyle's bed, leaving his naked torso and the bandages exposed carelessly. Kyle couldn't help but send glances to it.

'Does it hurt?'

'Nothing I can't handle.' Yet he closed his eyes and twitched his head uncomfortably as he said so. 'My head though… it hurts and I can't seem to recall everything.'

Kyle knew exactly what he meant. He had been experiencing the same phenomenon and pain for quite some time, only, not today. Not since Kenny had told him the truth.

'That's normal. You fell unconscious after I shot you.'

'Yeah, I know but— Wait, why did you shoot me again?'

'I didn't mean to—' Kyle said quickly, being interfered by Christophe's understanding nod. But the nodding slowed down until it finally came to a halt, and Christophe looked at Kyle with widening eyes.

'You shot trying to stop me— You tried to stop me shoot at that blond.' Christophe's eyes shook as he remembered what happened the day before. He grabbed Kyle's shoulder with his better hand and stared into his eyes asking for reassurance. 'But there were two shots yesterday. Yours, and the other one was mine—'

His weak smile slowly disappeared as he came to realisation.

'What did you do with the body?' Christophe stared at Kyle with eyes begging for an answer, but Kyle couldn't say anything. Yet Christophe found Kyle's answer out of the silence: 'Nothing…' He looked down hopelessly. 'I missed— didn't I?'

Slowly, Kyle took a breath. It was quiet but long and it felt hopeless as he let it out. Something told him to lie and say that Kenny was dead, but he couldn't lie to Christophe right now.

'Not by much.' He said with a tensed smile. Christophe leaned back, unblinking, his hand falling off from Kyle's shoulder as he did. Kyle felt desperate. 'But we don't have to, do we? He's not a bad person! Even if somebody wants him dead, we can ask Gregory to let him off. He never gets an innocent person as a target, so I'm sure he'll understand!'

'With what right?' Kyle shuddered at the familiar words. 'What right do we have to choose who and who not to kill? We are not God, you said so yourself. It is our job to kill, but if we begin choosing our targets, then we are no different from the people they ask us to kill. We leave the choice to Gregory and trust him, like we always have. Well, not we— you. It is your job, but you don't do it for the money, you do it for us. You always have. Please, don't break that now.

Kyle tilted his head to look away, but Christophe's hand gently caught his cheek so that their eyes would meet again.

'Please. Don't leave me…'

Kyle knew that he had lost something when he pulled that trigger, but still his eyes seemed to water and burn, or maybe it was only the heat of Christophe's hand.

'I know what you want me to do—' Kyle said, placing his hand on top of Christophe's and holding it on his cheek. 'You are asking me to kill Kenny, and then come back here, just like always. You want me to put things back to how they were. And I will.'

'Really?'

Kyle looked into Christophe's eyes with his own still glistening, but there was a small accepting smile on his lips.

'I owe you that much.'

.

The sharp sunlight woke Stan up with a squint. He first realised a quick, harsh pain in his head, and then as it faded his ears began to catch the sound of running water in the distance. He woke up and slipped on a shirt before he stumped his way out of his room to follow the sound. But just as he came to the bathroom door and reached for the doorknob, it disappeared, and before Stan could realise, a passing body bumped into him on his way out.

'Hey, watch it!' Stan spat.

'Sorry,' Kenny said without looking back. 'And good fucking morning to you too!'

Stan let out a small breath as he watched Kenny's back disappear past the hallway. That push in the shoulder woke him up at least. Squinting again at another short headache, Stan blinked and entered the bathroom to wash his face.

'Oh, come on!' Stan groaned when he reached the sink. 'Kenny, I keep on telling you to wash the blood away from the sink after you shave!'

'Don't be such a pussy, it's just a little drop!' Kenny called back from the kitchen as he put on the coffee. 'Imagine having your hands covered in it. All the time…'

Stan didn't hear Kenny's last sentence, but washed the blood away from the sink himself instead. (At least he didn't leave hair or shaving cream in the sink.) Only after that did he wash his face and brush his teeth before he joining Kenny in the kitchen.

'That's yours,' Kenny handed Stan a cup of coffee and kept one for himself. 'Black like your heart.'

'Poetry.' Stan filled the word with sarcasm.

'You like it.'

Kenny crossed the kitchen and leaned against the windowsill in the living room. Stan sipped on his coffee and watched as he leaned against the kitchen bench. The sun coming from the window was so bright. It made Kenny's blond hair glow, even his skin and hair, drowning his whole body in light as if he was the newborn messiah.

'The weather's nice. It's like yesterday's rain was a dream.'

'Feels like something good is going to happen?'

'Yeah… You could say that.'

Stan had his lips on the cup and the steam rising from the cup tickled his black eyelashes, making him blink. But for a second as he tried to swallow Kenny's words without seeing his face he completely forgot the existence of his coffee. The next second, he gulped a mouthful.

'Kenny, there's something I need to tell you—' Stan began formally, placing his coffee aside on the kitchen bench. Kenny turned back to look at him, and Stan felt a small hesitation in his throat as he began. 'Something I've been meaning to tell you…'

'I hope it's nothing serious…' Kenny muttered as he looked away again and sipped on his coffee. But Stan raised his voice, trying to catch his attention.

'I— I have done something that— Kenny, I have done something horrible.'

Kenny stood up, his eyes widening as he stared at Stan firmly. It made Stan gulp as he felt the guilt of what he had done. But he had to say it. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had to now.

'Kenny, I—'

'Stop.'

Stan froze. His words and preparation instantly blew away as he blinked confusedly.

'What?' He asked as if he couldn't believe the blond's words. But Kenny had turned back, leaning against the windowsill again and looking out to the nice weather.

'Whatever it is I don't want to hear it. Not today.'

Stan nodded acceptingly, shallow like a child. He felt like he didn't have the right to push his confession onto his friend. He wanted relief from saying it, but he didn't feel like he deserved it yet, at least not while Kenny wasn't willing to hear it. But the way Kenny stopped him— maybe he already knew. Maybe he already knew that Stan had done something terrible to Scar— Kyle, but just wanted to deny it. Inside, Stan felt relieved as well that Kenny stopped his confession. Once he had said it, he knew it would have been the end between them, and probably Kenny knew that too. Stan sighed and picked up his coffee.

'Stan, remember what you promised me yesterday?' The brunet looked up excited to hear Kenny's lighter voice change the subject, but it quickly scrunched up in confusion.

'No.'

'Well, you were probably too drunk.' Kenny chuckled looking at his coffee. Stan scoffed weakly.

'Yeah, tell me about it. I've got a thumping headache.'

Kenny still stared at his coffee with a hint of his smile still on his lips, but completely disappeared from his eyes. Stan watched and waited for him to continue, and the minute seemed so long until he finally opened his mouth again.

'… You promised me that you would do anything.'

Stan squinted with the sharp headache Kenny's words brought, but he couldn't recall any of it. It was his tendency to forget inconvenient stuff, although he could never forget the regretful ones.

'I did? …When?'

'You lost to a drinking game.' Kenny said with a grin, walking towards the brunet with his hand in his jacket pocket. He placed himself next to Stan on the kitchen bench, and then took his hand out from his pocket. 'My promise is this—' There was a wrinkled envelope in his hand. Stan stared at it for a long confused second before he took it into his own. 'Read it later. Not today, but when you think is right.'

Stan looked up wanting to ask a question, but Kenny was already walking away from him.

'Wait—' Stan called standing away from the bench. Kenny stopped in his tracks, and then looked back to face Stan again. He was going to ask a question, but looking into Kenny's icy blue eyes he didn't know why he called him to stop. He just had to. Yet as Stan stood there unable to say anything a small smile crept onto Kenny's face. It was weak, but it had reached his eyes.

'I know that you love him Stan, you always have but—' His smile grew wide as he gave a small shrug. 'I have to be selfish once in a lifetime.'

Stan watched blankly as Kenny left the room.

* * *

**A.N-Say good-bye to the flashbacks; they have granted independence. Next is the final chapter. **

**Thank you for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

'_Even after eating the forbidden fruit_

_I wasn't driven out. _

_It was me who had forgiven God_

_And it was me who was forgiven by God.'_

_-amazarashi "Anomie"_

_Chapter Fourteen: Departure_

Kyle was in Christophe's car with his arms resting on the wheel, stretched out as he held his phone firm in his hands. He twirled the device slowly and unskilfully with his fingers and watched it with blank eyes. He had been doing that for a few minutes now, with no necessary monologue playing inside his head. But then he stopped. A second later the phone flashed on as he pressed the buttons. It began to ring.

'Hello, Scar?' Kenny's voice rang out, stopping Kyle's heart for a second.

'It's Kyle actually.'

'Oh. Sorry. You got to admit though, you guys sound alike.'

Kyle exhaled a small chuckle at Kenny's attempt at a joke, but they both knew it sounded heavy and hollow.

'What's wrong Kyle?'

'Nothing, it's just—' Kyle finally noticed that his eyes were watering. He brushed his tears away quickly before they could fall, but the pain stayed in his eyes and he had lost the rest of his words. Instead, he sighed. 'Hey Kenny, can I ask you something?'

'Anything Kyle.' There was a hint of confusion in Kenny's voice from Kyle's unusually unconfident tone. Kyle smiled a tense smile as he asked.

'Are you still willing to run away?'

'Of course.' Kenny answered instantly, as if the answer was sewn onto his tongue. To Kenny it was as if it was needless to say, and Kyle with his lack of confidence was slightly taken aback by it. But at the same time he could hear the subtle relief in Kenny's voice when he heard Kyle's question.

'Thank you.' Kyle's voice shook as he said those words, and this time Kenny couldn't ignore it.

'Kyle, what's wrong?'

Tears were falling from his eyes now, one by one endlessly, despite the shaking smile on his lips.

'Nothing, it's just—' Kyle repeated his earlier words, without losing the rest this time. 'It's just that, I'm about to betray a friend…'

The phone stayed silent for a minute as Kenny sank in Kyle's words. It was an agonising second for Kyle as he waited for the blond's voice.

'But this is what you have to do, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' Kyle agreed quietly.

'Then I will help you do it.' Kenny's voice was soft, but sounded prepared for anything. 'I'll get my stuff. Where do you want to meet?'

'No, I'll go get you. I'll come to your place now.'

'Ok.'

'Bye.'

'Yup, see ya.'

'Oh, and Kenny?' Kyle called as he felt Kenny almost hung up.

'Yeah?'

'I—' He revised the three words in his head before they reached his tongue, and then shook his head against them. 'I'll see you.'

He hung up the phone without waiting for a reply and then stared at the black screen. It was not until a minute later that he put his phone away and turned on the car engine and made his way to Kenny's apartment.

The blond was already waiting on the main road outside his alleyway with his travel bag when Kyle arrived. He slipped into the passenger seat with a greeting, which Kyle returned shortly.

'Have you got everything?' Kyle asked as he looked at Kenny's single bag. Kenny tapped it with a small grin.

'Yup. I've got all I need. Where's your bag?'

'In the trunk.'

Kenny nodded and Kyle turned on the car.

'So, where're we going?'

'There's somewhere I need to go first,' Kyle made aware as he drove back the way he came. 'I want to see the forest one last time before we leave here.'

Kyle had his eyes ahead on the road, not looking at Kenny as he spoke. But Kenny was looking at him with a gentle expression.

'Okay.'

Somehow, even without looking, that one gentle answer made the heat flash back in Kyle's eyes, even if it was only for a moment, before it turned to a navy blue.

When the car came to a halt in the car park of the mountains, they both stayed still in their seats for a moment without any words.

'Well? Are we going?' Kenny finally asked once Kyle showed no sign of movement.

'Yeah.' Kyle said, and then opened the car door.

With his bag swaying on his back, Kenny walked a couple of steps behind Kyle as he led the way through the forest, and he took that small space between them to observe Kyle's back as he walked. Kyle's eyes were focused on the unstable path, his legs moving automatically to the rhythm of his breath.

'It's much different in here isn't it? Without the mist. They said it's gonna rain again tonight though.' Kenny voiced out once they came to a stop. He was looking around the top of the trees, observing the light shining through the treetops like stars, before he looked down to where they had arrived. But even without looking, he knew where they had stopped. They were standing where they were a day before, where Kenny had been buried. There was a trace of a large human-sized hole but it was mostly destroyed by the heavy rain.

'It looks as if a zombie had crawled out of its grave.' Kyle commented weakly, looking at the remains of Kenny's grave.

'Well, that's not so far from the truth.' Kenny answered with humour, now standing beside Kyle. Kyle looked beside him and watched as Kenny scavenged his bag, until he pulled out his hand from the bag with a hand-made cross in it. The blond shrugged at Kyle's wide eyes. 'I had to keep it.'

Kyle tried to smile, but it just seemed impossible to, so he looked back down onto the grave with fluttering eyes.

'You know, I always used knives for my job. Never used guns as far as I could help it. It just never felt right, and it never does but— I could never grasp the reality of someone dying with a small pull of a finger. And I had to know, I had to feel it as the killer, otherwise no one would.'

'It was a punishment?'

'I don't know… I just had to live in the gruesome reality of taking away someone's life and having their blood on me, so that I wouldn't get used to it. But over time I became numb to that as well, until you came.' Kyle's hand was in his pocket, fiddling with what was inside. 'I still don't know why you're with me even though you know I'm a killer.'

'With a body like this, death has always been a close and casual issue, Kyle. You remember everything now don't you? You can't say our childhood was all sunshine and pancakes. There was always the usual tragedies and chaos. I died almost every week.'

Kyle smirked lightly, although nothing reached his eyes anymore. He always thought that he was living in pain, but Kenny was always living in a true tragedy. He didn't deserve this. He deserved one long normal life.

'If you could start your life off again, how would you do it?'

'Well, that's easy. And I don't need to use my imagination.' Kyle looked up at Kenny's light, yet truthful tone. 'I'll look for you.'

Kenny was smiling, but Kyle couldn't. He felt he was burning deep inside and it took all his strength to shake his head, almost like a tremble.

'No... You can't do that.'

Kenny's smile faded as he watched Kyle take his hand out of his pocket. There was his pocket revolver in his hand, and he pointed it at Kenny's chest. Both their eyes were wide and glowing.

'You can't look for me anymore Kenny. You can't see me anymore.' His hand was shaking, but it was still pointing straight at Kenny's heart. 'You have to run away alone, without me.'

'What?'

'I can't do it with you!' Kyle was finally able to yell. 'I have to stay without you and put everything as they were before. The way they should be.'

'Why?' Kenny's voice was like water, gentle but stinging Kyle's wound.

'Because I owe him my life! You have saved me too. You saved my heart and soul, but— Kenny, I'm a murderer. I have thrown them away and I don't deserve them back.'

Kenny opened his mouth to speak, but Kyle silenced him by putting both hands on the small revolver to steady its point without shaking. He cocked back the hammer.

'Kenny, I'm going to kill you. You have two deaths left, and I'm going to take one away from you, but it will be for the last time. When you wake up, run away from here, far from here, alone. You will have one death left for the rest of your life… That's more than enough.' Kyle was not shaking anymore, and Kenny was no longer looking at the gun. Their eyes were locked together, which they both knew was for the last time.

'Bye Kenny.'

Kyle pulled the trigger. The metal rang and the shot fired, and Kenny's body flew back before his eyes. He breathed shallow breaths that didn't reach his lungs as he watched the body lying on the ground. Pulling a single trigger never felt like it was taking someone's life, but the way Kenny flew back onto the ground burnt his eyes horribly. It felt like it was his own chest that he shot a bullet into.

'Kyle—'

Kyle shuddered out of his trance and looked at the body. He thought he heard Kenny's voice call out his name in the distance, but it seemed to be only the moving air playing with his mind.

'Kyle—'

He heard it again, the weak call of his name, but this time he knew it was real and he rushed to the lying body. The cloth on Kenny's chest was dyeing in deep red from the hole that ripped through the body, but Kenny's icy-blue eyes were still open and he was still breathing in quivering breaths as he called Kyle's name.

'Oh, God, Kenny! I'm so sorry—' Kyle gasped as he dropped onto the ground beside him. 'I couldn't— but I should have aimed at your head. It would have been quicker. Wait a second—'

Kyle took his revolver checked the bullet left, preparing it for a last shot to put Kenny at ease. But as he fiddled with his gun with shaking hands, another fell on top of his, freezing his hands on the dismantled revolver.

'Don't—' Kyle looked up in confusion into Kenny's face. Despite the pain tensing his eyes, he was still trying to smile. 'Don't—' is all that he could say.

'Why! Kenny, you're in so much pain—'

'Don't— finish me off…'

Kyle watched Kenny's slowly dying face still in confusion and eye-watering hurt, but his hands were still frozen on the gun. Kenny grimaced, but drew his hand away and began to undo the front of his jacket. Kyle was unable to say or do anything except to stare as Kenny's delicate fingers pulled down the zipper and then reach for the buttons on his shirt. One by one the buttons became undone to show a glimpse of the skin underneath. When Kenny finally undid the last button and showed his naked chest, it wasn't the bloody hole that sent Kyle into despair.

'No—' Kyle gasped as tears fell from his eyes. 'Oh God, Kenny, no— that can't be!'

Kenny watched Kyle with unchanging eyes, but this time he was not even able to try and put a smile on his lips. His own eyes glistened as he heard Kyle's cries and he himself wanted to cry out loud.

'I'm sorry,' was all he managed.

Kyle sobbed and looked again at the naked skin on Kenny's chest, making sure it wasn't his imagination. And it wasn't. Above the hole that Kyle shot into his body, there was a bright red "1" etched into his skin.

'That can't be! It was three the last time we met, and then after yesterday it should be two! Why? Why _one_?'

Kenny now forced a smile, but instead a tear fell from his eye.

'It's okay, Kyle— it's okay…'

'Why didn't you stop me?'

Kenny shook his head, just enough with his weakness.

'You had to stop yourself.'

'But it's your life!' Kyle shouted desperately. 'And it's your last…'

Kenny didn't say anything, but kept a small smile as he watched Kyle cry. And then finally, he took Kyle's hand with his own to make Kyle look up at him.

'Remember how I said that I will die a million times if it meant that I could save your life?' Kyle couldn't answer, but Kenny knew. 'This is just another death. The only difference is that it's the last.'

Kyle could feel the strength disappearing from Kenny's hand grasping his own, so he held it with both his hands as hard as he could. Kenny smiled at the strong contact.

'You haven't lost your heart and soul. It's what I fell in love with.'

Kyle sobbed again, grasping Kenny's hand for dear life.

'I love you…'

'I love you too.' Kenny's smile relaxed with relief and put his last strength into his fingers around Kyle's. 'Make me your last kill. Promise me you'll live your life…'

No matter how strong Kyle held, with one last breath Kenny's hand slipped out of his grip and fell on top of his unmoving chest. More tears fell from Kyle's eyes and he cried louder and clearer as he held Kenny's still body. It was as if Kenny had never died before and Kyle had never killed before in his life. He sat their holding onto Kenny's body, crying like he had just learnt how to.

.

.

Blessed our You, Lord our God, King of the universe, the True Judge.

.

.

Stan hadn't moved an inch since the policemen had left his house. He was sitting on the couch, staring out the window that had somehow drained the whole room in darkness before he knew it. He wanted to fill himself with alcohol, but at the same time he didn't want to single drop. When he finally realised how dark it was he turned on the lights, and then stood there by the switches, staring. He didn't care why it happened. It happened. He turned off the lights again, and then turned it back on. Nothing had changed. He stood there, blinking, until it all felt worthless and he turned the lights off again. It was night now, he was tired. With lead-like feet he made his way to his bedroom and fell on his bed in the dark.

'Get up you emo-fuck!'

Stan shot his eyes wide open to the electrifying thump of his heart. His chest turned cold and he breathed heavy lumps of air. His room was suddenly bright, like magic, but it was only the morning sun. He looked around, but there was no one except for himself in his room. He kept on looking, down the corridor and in the kitchen and living room, but he was still alone. It was strange. The voice shouting at him seemed so real. The words repeated in his head, but with his own voice.

'Get up you emo-fuck. You promised.'

He promised… He promised what? He had made a promise with Kenny, but he still didn't know what it was about. And then he realised it was in the envelope. He hadn't bothered to open it yet, but he still had it, ready to open it at "the right time". Was now the right time? He wasn't sure, but the voice from his dreams seemed to tell him so.

He went to his room and took the envelope that was lying on the table and opened it. The voice finally began to disappear from his head as he began to read it. It was nothing proper, just blue ink on lined notepaper, but somehow it made Stan fall to the ground.

.

Kyle didn't know how much time had past: it might had been hours, or maybe days, or realistically even a week. But when he realised he was lying on his made-bed with his phone in his grip, its battery long since dead. His bedroom was bright from the window glowing because of the nice weather. In the end it had only rained for that one night after the last shot and now, it was just too bright and light.

His passive, yet hollow behaviour worried his friends sick, but the only reason he didn't respond to Gregory or Christophe's presence or words was because he didn't notice them. Sometimes, he will feel something when he wondered who would have ever wanted Kenny dead in the first place, but even that didn't matter to him in the end. Kenny was gone now. Kyle was an empty body for a long time, until his lips finally moved on their own to breathe out quiet words.

'How ironic… the only way for me to know what it feels like to have a future is to look back into the past…'

He knew that he had lost something when he had shot Christophe, and he knew that that had been his future: a future of freedom. But he wasn't prepared to take away that same thing from the very person who had tried to give one to him. He had his grip on his phone tirelessly, waiting for Kenny's message that had always came to him in the morning. But nothing came, and the phone died as if to announce that the time was up.

Suddenly, Kyle's eyes focused and his breath had stopped. He thought he heard Kenny's voice as clear in his ears as if someone was whispering them directly to him.

'_I will die a million times if it meant that I could save your life.'_

It was Kenny's voice and words from his memory, but it was so true and clear and sounded so real. They made Kyle rise up from his bed and stare, without squinting, to the light in his bedroom window.

'_You haven't lost your heart and soul. It's what I fell in love with.' _

Kyle could feel himself breathe again, he could feel the tingling in the end of his fingers, the warmth of his skin and blood and the heat in his eyes. He could see that he was on his feet, standing tall by himself.

'You'll be my last kill—'

He could hear his own voice.

'I promise.'

Kyle could feel a new birth of strength in his chest flow to every corner of his body and burn. He felt so free. He felt so strong. He felt as if he wasn't alone. Kyle could feel the wings on his back burst open wide like the bright window blasting open by a fresh, wild wind.

Kyle leaned down and grasped the forgotten bag from under his bed. He opened it and fished out the poison pill case and knife, and then all his fake IDs, leaving only one passport in his bag under the name of Kyle Broflovski. Everything fake was left on the bed. Apart from his essentials, the only thing he kept was his computer, and then the broken photograph of four laughing boys.

When he left his room, he paused as he met two blue eyes. They stared at him firmly, but Kyle didn't stop because he was daunted by them; he stopped to meet them as forwardly as they did to him. He stood there with his eyes locked with Gregory's as if it was enough of an explanation for his leaving, before he finally turned his heels and made his way to the door.

'Would you be back for tea?'

Kyle stopped just as he reached the door and turned back to face Gregory with a confused frown.

'No.'

Gregory shrugged his head in a nod, and then opened his top draw and threw at Kyle what was inside. Kyle caught the small, thin thing with his fingers, and then his eyes widened as he observed what Gregory had given him. It was a debit card with a memo stuck to it.

'Pay for your own dinner then.'

Kyle looked up with amazement and disbelief on his face. Gregory was already back to looking at his computer, giving no interest to Kyle's reaction.

'Thanks.'

The door opened, and then closed, leaving Gregory alone. The blond looked up from the corner of his eye to check where Kyle was a second ago, before he took out his phone and dialled the number sent to his email opened up on his computer.

'Hello, this is Gregory. Yes that's right, you sound surprised?'

His blue eyes looked up once more, and this time a small smile came to his lips.

.

By the time he had arrived at the airport the taxi and train had taken away most of his cash, leaving just enough for a ham sandwich and a coffee. He had no idea how much he had on the card Gregory had gave him (curse him if he really only had enough for dinner), but it was the only money he had and only ticket to take him away.

Although the air chilled him to the bones the sun was still shining in the bright blue sky. At least, if he could afford it, the plane would fly up without much trouble. Kyle adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and headed for the terminal entrance. The second the doors closed behind him the warm conditioned air engulfed his whole body, disorientating his mind before he snapped himself out of the relaxation. He walked inside without a destination, and then the hanging timetable caught his eyes.

'God. What a choice.' Kyle mumbled with knitted brows. He looked around for a ticket counter, and then crossed to the first possible one he found.

'Hi. I would like to buy a ticket please.'

The staff behind the counter smiled widely (although with a hint of confusion).

'And where would you be heading, sir?'

'Anywhere, it doesn't matter. I won't stay there long anyway.'

'Well, we have a free seat for flight 3945 leaving for Los Angeles in half an hour.'

'Great. Can I buy one of those, please?'

'Make that two.'

Kyle swang his head around with fierce eyes at the familiar voice. The two blue eyes framed with black eyelashes froze him to a stop; they were looking at him inches away, challengingly and uncompromising. Kyle's gut began to boil, but the voice of the lady behind the counter asking them to please wait finally snapped him awake.

'What the fuck are you doing here?' Kyle hissed as he grasped Stan by the collar. The brunet didn't protest against Kyle's enraged behaviour, but dug inside his pocket. He showed Kyle a white envelope.

'I made a promise.' Stan said as the angry strength began to flow away from Kyle's grip. The redhead looked at the envelope quietly. 'It's from Kenny.'

Kyle looked up at Stan before he took the envelope into his hand. His fingers felt so numb and delicate as he opened it and took out the one-paged letter, and as he read it wistful light filled him as he understood that Kenny had left it with the intention of it being a final note. The words that were written by Kenny's unskilful handwriting soared through Kyle so gently. He felt content, with a small bit of jealousy. And at the same time, remorse and despair took him by the heart.

'He knew…'

'You're in luck.' The lady's voice took Kyle out of his trance. 'We have two seats left next to each other. Would you like to purchase those tickets?'

Kyle nodded, still feeling a little lost. The lady smiled and typed into her computer. She asked for their passports. The card Gregory gave him worked. Neither Kyle nor Stan had luggage to check in. Kyle smirked weakly at how little the two of them had to start a new life. He was holding the letter close to his heart as if it was physically keeping him warm and he found it amazing how naturally he could smile.

'You go ahead and keep your promise with Kenny. I have my own to keep too.' Kyle said coolly as they made their way to the security. He was walking fast and without hesitation, making Stan skip behind him troublingly, but then he came to a sudden halt, looking back at Stan and dabbing his finger into his chest. 'But if you fucking touch me again, I will break that promise one single time and kill you. Okay?'

'Okay.' Stan flew his hands up in surrender. Kyle glared warningly before pulling his finger off Stan's hard chest and begin his swift walking again. Stan stood their frozen for a second as he watched Kyle's back, until Kyle's voice called his name, making him jump. A small, bright smile crossed his lips as he followed Kyle's steps.

The boarding began as soon as they arrived at the gates. The line of people waiting to board somehow made Kyle come to a stop as he realised that he was with Stan, and not alone. In reaction Stan stopped as well, and he looked back at Kyle in confusion.

'Kenny's dead. He won't know even if you break his promise.'

'What?' Stan asked. His voice was confused, but then denial slowly crept to his eyes as he observed the weight in Kyle's eyes. 'Why are you saying this?' It was like he was suddenly dragged back into reality, remembering the pain in his chest. But Kyle meant what he was saying. He looked straight into Stan's eyes, but his voice was a little weaker as if the words were too heavy for him to say.

'Because it's my fault that he's dead.'

Stan's eyes widened, but then they thinned back in understanding.

'Whatever happened, if that's true, then he would have been satisfied. You read his letter. He would have done anything for you. You loved him. I did too in my own way. That's why we both made our promises.' Stan walked towards Kyle and wrapped his arm around his shoulder, ignoring what Kyle had warned him only minutes ago. As he began to walk, his arm made Kyle walk too. They walked towards the gate that had opened to the last of the people waiting. 'But that's not why I'm keeping my promise.'

Kyle looked up at Stan, startled a bit. Suddenly, the determination in his eyes made Stan look so mature. Kyle couldn't say anything as Stan turned away and went through the gates before him. He was last. Kyle glanced back unintentionally as he gave his boarding pass to the staff and waited, and there, behind the crowd, Kyle thought he saw a glimpse of two familiar faces in the people seeing the travellers off. Panic took his breath, but then the tension slowly drifted away. He didn't wave or call to them, but kept their eyes connected for the long minute until he was called to go through the gate.

Stan was waiting for him on the other side. He watched as Kyle walked towards him, and began walking once he was overtaken without a word. They walked to the plane side by side, both sharing the same words given to them by an old friend.

_Dear you. _

_I am glad to have the opportunity to begin with the cliché: if you are reading this, then I am probably dead. _

_You might feel angry by my lack of serious remorse, but that is how I want to be, and how I want you to be. You can cry, I'll be offended if you didn't. I just hope you'll wake up one morning and feel all drained and light enough to walk a thousand miles. If my wish is granted, then you will have to if you're going to keep my promise._

_And my promise is this. There is a person I love, we both love him. And when I'm gone, I want you to look after him since I will no longer be able to. He has secrets that you can't even imagine, but I know that you will accept him even if he doesn't tell you, and I know that you will accept him even if he does. _

_You might hesitate to keep my promise because of whatever guilt and remorse you feel for what you have done to him, but that is your problem, not mine. It is too late now. You promised a promise and you can't get away from this one. Look after the person we both love, and who you have always loved. This is the last chance you'll get from me, and probably the last you'll get at all. Don't fuck it up._

_With some of my love, because most of it belongs to him. _

_Kenny._

* * *

**A.N- Thank you for coming this far. Lastly, there will be an epilogue where everything will unravel, in case you have noticed the clues and mysteries lying around. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	15. Epilogue

_Epilogue: Behind the Scenes_

He watched as the plane took off and soared through the air, knowing that the giant metal bird was taking his friend to his long-deserved freedom. He watched with his habitual smile, but the one he had on wasn't habitual at all. It was the first time he had such a smile on and it felt almost strained. He was feeling two almost opposing emotions, like holding a bright warm light, yet feeling the great dark shadow it was creating. He felt relief, and disappointment. He felt content and lonely.

'Despite everything, I will miss that him. I can't deny that.' Gregory looked down to the man sitting with his head low. Yet even as he looked at him his smile didn't disappear, if it didn't grow. 'You know he would be better off without us.'

Christophe didn't say anything, but took out a cigarette in silence. This time Gregory's smile dropped.

'We better get outside if you're going to light that.'

The sounds of planes taking off filled their ears but Christophe didn't seem to care as he lit his cigarette. Gregory watched in silence as the brunet breathed out a long sigh of smoke.

'I know that.' Christophe finally said after his long protest of silence. 'I know he would be better off without us. I know I should have kept him away from you. I know I should have kept myself away from him. I know that I shouldn't have let him take my job. I know I should have let him go. I know that I shouldn't have made him—' He couldn't even put his cigarette back in between his lips. He was shaking too much. And Gregory watched expressionless, sinking Christophe's words deep inside with empathy but without sympathy. 'But I loved him.' Gregory's eyes widened and he quickly caught Christophe in his arms as the brunet lost his balance on his feet. Christophe had let his cigarette fall to the ground to hold his face in his hands. 'I just wanted him beside me…'

Gregory didn't say anything. He kept Christophe's shaking body in his arms and looked up to the sky. It was so blue, so high and wide. He wondered if the plane would land back if a sudden lightening storm came, and then smirked at his own childishness.

'It's just you and me now Christophe. Like the old days. Just you and me.'

He patted Christophe's back and suddenly realised how young they still were.

.

Christophe had told Gregory to drop him off in the middle of nowhere. He said that he wanted to walk home, but Gregory didn't protest against it. He just reminded Christophe that it would take a couple of hours by his feet. Christophe left the car without saying anything.

While they were still driving Christophe had declared that he wouldn't take back his old job. He said that Kyle had done what he had for a reason, even if it was afflicting and selfishly stupid. Gregory agreed. He had made a promise with Kyle and he wasn't about to break that just because Kyle was gone. Kyle had jumped into the fire to push Christophe out of the flames, not caring that Christophe had long since turned numb to its pain. It was selfish, yes, it was selfish. But it was what he had chosen to do himself. And now he had chosen to jump out of the fire himself. He was burnt, but Gregory knew that he would be all right. It wouldn't be easy, but he would be all right.

Once he had arrived home all alone, Gregory began to hum himself a song as he slid himself out of the car. He murmured the words he knew, and hummed the rest. It was a song his mother sang to him long ago, when he was young and in England, and when his parents were still alive. He knew that he would be able to research the song only too easily if he wanted to, but something kept him from doing that. He wondered why he was suddenly humming such a song, and then wondered why he hadn't before. As he continued to hum he began to remember the first verse and found himself locked in those words as he opened the door to his apartment.

_Alas, my love, you do me wrong_

_To cast me off discourteously _

_For I have loved you true and long_

_Delighting in your compony _

He paused when he heard a soft voice in the distance as he climbed the stairs. And then stopped and immediately noticed the clear, strong, yet gentle voice. He continued to climb. It was beautiful singing, although it was only loud enough for one's lone pleasure.

_Greensleeves was all my joy_

_Greensleeves was my delight _

_Greensleeves was my heart of gold_

Gregory opened the door to his office, following the voice, and saw the man sitting on Kyle's old couch. He paused his singing and smiled, before he finished the final line:

_And who but my lady, Greensleeves._

He grinned up to Gregory once he had finished the song.

'It's "well and long" by the way. Not "true and long".' Gregory didn't say anything, but continued to stare at the singer long and hard. Under his gaze, the singer loosened the muscles in his eyes and mouth, and his smile became subtler and kinder, before their cocky playfulness returned back to them. 'I spared you the trouble of inviting me in by doing it myself by the way.'

'I can see that, Kenny McCormick.'

Gregory wasn't smiling anymore. He seemed to be unable to in Kenny's presence. They both had their own habitual smile, but Kenny's was too perfect and beautiful, filled with kindness, happiness and melancholy. Gregory couldn't bear the quiet tragedy of all it. It made his smile disappear in disgust.

'Did he leave then?'

'Yes. With bloody Stan Marsh and not you. I'm surprised that you didn't at least see him off.'

'How could I've? I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from jumping onto the plane with him.'

Kenny chuckled softly, but still Gregory didn't change his expression, and neither of them cared. He watched as Kenny put his hand into his pocket and draw out an envelope, which made Gregory's frown twitch.

'Here.' Kenny said, handing the envelope to Gregory. But he merely gave it a brush of a glance before looking at Kenny again.

'I'm not going to take money from you.'

'Why not? I asked you to make your assassin kill me, and he did that more than enough times.'

'You did it to help him. I did it to help him too. But I'm sorry—' Kenny looked up at the sudden apology and Gregory's eyes were remorseful. 'If I could have kept Christophe a little further from Kyle, then you probably would be with him by now.'

Kenny looked down again. Gregory wished that he would just let go of his smile and cry, but Kenny's eyes weren't even glistening. Even to Gregory, it was too painful to watch.

'How did you do it in the end?' Gregory asked out of undeniable curiosity. 'He shot Christophe because of you. I thought that was the end. I thought that would have made him bound to Christophe forever.'

'It _was_ the end. For me it was, anyway. I knew that it was the end of us and I only had one way of pulling him out of his own immolation.' Kenny's fingers softly rubbed his chest, where under the fabric there used to be numbers etched onto his skin. 'At the beginning when I chose to do this, I gave myself a limit. A limit to the number of my deaths to stop Kyle, until I had to give up and stop this endless cycle. But when Kyle shot Christophe, I knew that I had to give up one death early. So I made him think that I was truly dead forever, and that it was because he killed me.'

'That wouldn't have worked if he wasn't in love with you. What would you have done if he wasn't?'

'Well, it wasn't really a plan I had started out with. I didn't expect him to love me, and I didn't expect that I would become so mad for him. It didn't take me long though. I guess I always had a thing or two for him.'

They turned quiet again, until Gregory finally got up.

'I'll get some tea.'

When he came back Kenny hadn't moved an inch, except for his eyes that were staring out the window and to the distant sky. He began talking with the sound of Gregory placing the teacup onto the table. Gregory could tell it wasn't actually intended for him to listen, but he did.

'I always knew that Stan loved Kyle, and not just as best friends. But I also knew that he wasn't aware of his own feelings, not until he blew their relationship at least. I thought that Kyle would become aware of how much he fucking _cared_ about Stan too, and I thought that one day they would eventually come to terms and be together. But Kyle left long before that, leaving Stan with undigested feelings and without a best friend. He tried to fill that role up with me, but how could it have worked? We loved and cared for each other but neither of us in that way.' He seemed to finally notice his tea and picked it up. 'But to think that in the end they would really end up together…'

Kenny sipped his tea under Gregory's gaze.

'It was your own doing.'

'I know… I began this thing to help Kyle as a friend, not because I loved him. He was a good friend to me in South Park, and I knew he was a good person in general. Deep inside, maybe even too good. So when I found out what he was doing, I could only guess how much torture it would have been to him, and all I wanted to do was help. But then…' Kenny suddenly placed his tea back to the table without even sipping it and Gregory frowned in confusion. But when he looked up Gregory froze. Kenny's eyes were glistening. 'I began to want to be with him, more than anything.'

Gregory looked down, unable to face the crumbling emotions.

'Drink your fucking tea.'

Kenny chuckled weakly and did as he was told.

'He would be fine.' Gregory said.

'I know,' Kenny laughed. 'It's Stan I'm worried about.'

'I couldn't care less.'

Kenny smirked again and drank his tea, and then sighed through his smile as he placed his cup back on the table.

'Well. I'll be off then. Can't stay here too long; I'm dead!' Kenny said as he pulled his arms through his jacket.

'Where will you go?'

'I don't know. Someplace warm probably. It's too cold here to be alone.'

Kenny stood up and Gregory followed by standing onto his feet. His eyes widened as Kenny stretched his hand out. There was a small, sheepish grin on his lips.

'This is it, then, my friend.'

'I'm not your friend.' Gregory flicked the words out, making Kenny shrug with a smile.

'My accomplice then.'

Gregory paused, and there was the smile he hated again, on Kenny's lips. It made the same smile creep onto his own, and he took Kenny's hand with a firm grip.

'Rest in peace, Kenny.'

The smaller blond grinned one last time before he stepped around Gregory and slipped through the door. Gregory could hear Kenny's loose boots hit against the stairs, but the sound soon died down under Kenny's voice. Singing louder than before, not to himself, but to the sky above the rotting ceiling, loud and raw, letting everything out messily rather than to let them quietly bruise his body.

_Ah, Greensleeves, now farewell, adieu,_

_To God I pray to prosper thee,_

_For I am still thy lover true,_

_Come once again and love me._

A loud _bang_ made the house shake underneath his feet and Gregory subtly shuddered from the fierce sound and impact of the front door shutting. He reached down to take his tea and realised that Kenny had managed to finish his in that very short time. He watched the empty cup and sipped, and then made his way to the window behind his desk. He wasn't cold even as he stood by the window; he was too awed by the brightness of that day's sky.

He sipped his tea again, and as he took his lips away from the rim of the cup, his habitual smile had returned back to him. Why did people keep on sacrificing themselves for the ones they cared most? Sometimes even while knowing how much pain it was going to be to the ones they saved. Gregory had learnt it at such a young age, the pain of being alive in place of a loved one. It hurt as it made him frustrated to watch Christophe, Kyle, Kenny, sacrifice himself for another, not caring that they were making each other victims of immolation.

But maybe in the end, that selfish act of self-sacrifice would end up as a salvation. Maybe after the pain of having their loved ones sacrificed they will learn to appreciate what had been saved by that immolation. Like the way Gregory was glad that he was alive. Like the way Christophe had let go of his light perspective of death. And like the way Kyle had chosen freedom and flew away, leaving everything painful behind to live his own life.

* * *

**A.N- Thank you for coming to the end. C'est fini! Voila. It wasn't my intention to make it pointlessly cruel, it never is, but it's my lack of skill to be unable to take the point across. Sorry for that. **

**Thank you again for reading. And thank you reviewers for letting me know that this story wasn't alone! Bye now. Adieu.**


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